DarkStrom
by Life's a cookie
Summary: AU. 11yrs ago, Harry had a normal life with the Potters. Only it was neither his birth name nor was he related to them by blood. Along with his twin sister, they were the children of Voldemort. Adventures ensue when the Order finds them again 11yrs later
1. Prologue: 1981

**A/N:** yup… I'm back. With yet another new fanfic. I'm terrible and should really just complete one before starting a new one… I know that. But the plot bunnies just attack, and I don't want to lose them. Finding the inspiration to continually write and hoping whatever I try to express comes out fully is hard enough as it is. I just spent several hours on this, and it's cost me several hours worth of revision for my end-of-year's examinations in less than a WEEK! I'm way, way screwed. I hope this was worth it! Happy reading!

This story follows quite closely to the events in the original books. I deemed it AU because there are alterations, of course. And quite a fair bit of the plot is changed. Blah. Oh, in case yer wondering, _strom_ was taken from the word 'maelstrom'. I read somewhere that it was akin to stream.

**Disclaimer: **This is once off. All publicly recognized characters from _Harry Potter_ are property of the brilliant J.K. Rowling. I do not own them, nor do I dare plagiarize them. For the purpose of fanfiction, I am simply borrowing them. =) So don't sue.

**Summary: **Eleven years ago, Harry Potter had been living a relatively normal life with the Potters. But that was not his birth name, nor was he related to the Potters by blood. Together with his twin sister, they were really the children of the Dark Lord. Despite being reunited for a time, an unexpected incident years later tears them apart yet again. This is a story of their lives from when they fall back into the hands of the Order once more, eleven years later.

* * *

_The woman was dying, he knew. The old man could see it all too clearly from her sallow skin, emancipated figure and sunken features. Something, a curse, most likely, was eating her from the inside. He could feel it. _

_And yet, despite all this, he could not find it in him to pity her. He could bring himself to show neither sympathy nor mercy. How could he when groveling before him was the woman who had voluntarily allied herself to the world's greatest evil; the woman who chose darkness over light…_

_The woman who bore Tom Riddle's children?_

"_Please… please take them. Take them away from him!"_

"_Give me a reason why I should. For you see, I believe there is none."_

_The woman's hands trembled where they were clutching onto a sizable bundle. Desperation was now joining the insanity that brooked in soulless eyes. _

"_And if so, you would come here to do naught but a negotiation. So, I ask, what is it you have to offer me?"_

_The words seemed to crush her, or perhaps it was the worsening effects of whatever it was that was killing her which forced her small shoulders to hunch even more. She seemed to struggle hard to find an answer; something, anything to offer this man from whom she sought protection. _

"…_Nothing…I have…nothing" _

_With a wry smirk few would have thought possible of him, Albus gazed coldly down at the woman. _

"_Then there is nothing more to discuss. I'm certain Tom would not be pleased to hear of your potential defection." _

_Glazed eyes suddenly snapped open wide, the reality of what was happening slowly sinking in. No! No, her children, her babies…she couldn't let them follow their _father_…_

"_Th-There is something!-" The woman would have continued had she not been interrupted by a most troublesome bout of coughing._

_Albus had felt mildly interested at her outburst and so waited patiently, somewhat, for her to speak again. He had an inkling of what she was to point out but he would wait and see…_

"_I-If you take them… there wouldn't be a risk…of them being recruited. Think about it, sir…" she rasped in blatant agony. Not much longer now…_

_Albus had of course thought of it before and why his brilliant mind had dismissed it was currently beyond him but alas what mattered was that he was reminded of it. In time. _

_It was true, if the children were to be brought up on their side, they wouldn't have to worry about them becoming another weapon of Voldemort's. Training in the Dark Arts from a young age, undoubtedly, would result in a huge threat especially given parentage… their powers would be great indeed. Ruthless killing machines, the very epitome of evil…_

_If they were to be brought up on their side, surely they could recruit them for their own purposes, their own benefits, to their own advantage. Oh yes, they would be a worthy asset with their abilities. The children could be THEIR secret weapon. _

_The pros were definitely tempting but at what costs? The truth of their parents would have to be kept a secret and all tracks that might lead to them finding out would have to be kept hidden. But for how long could it be possible? Magic, old magic in particular, sometimes allowed no concealments at all. One way or another, it would reveal their full name as had been agreed on by any living parent. And it is risky to bank on the assumption that hopefully, when the time came that they did find out, they would have been brainwashed enough into detesting their father, more so for the atrocities he'd committed… Not to mention, unfeeling as the Dark Lord was, parental instincts might make him hunt the children down and take back what is his. Certainly, several would die… sacrifices would have to be made…_

_That aside, Albus had to make a decision. Saying yes would mean almost certain death to at least a handful of members of the Order and yet saying no could well mean even more than just a handful…_

"_So you offer your children… to me. You want them to be under the protection of the Light, shielded from their father…is that right?"_

_The woman could only offer a faint nod._

James and Lily looked almost, dare they admit it, fondly at the two babes in the cradle. Twins, they were. Harry, they'd named the boy, and Hayley, they'd so named the girl. With features as yet defined, their black hair could make them seem a believable Potter if one didn't scrutinize appearances too much.

The proposition was insane really, but the couple had had hardly any say in the matter. Respect for Dumbledore has been all that prevented the Potters from refusing. Apparently, this arrangement was in accordance with some crazed prophecy; and it was so dubbed 'crazed' because, let's be honest, Lily was supposed to be pregnant and was supposed to bear a child by the end of July but she was nowhere close to either. It was already late June and there was nothing to suggest that Mrs. Potter was with child and while Trelawney, bless her soul, was believed never to be wrong, the Potters were entertaining _great _doubts over her sanity. …That is, until the little incident popped up.

Dumbledore had taken it as a sign, that maybe, just maybe, these were the children…child…whatever. The prophecy hadn't actually stated that Lily was to personally give birth to the Chosen One… they'd simply interpreted it as such. The prophecy had simply stated that the Chosen One would be born to those who defied the Dark Lord thrice. Perhaps that maniac's wife had done just that.

But long story short, the Potters had still landed with these twins. Lily, being Lily, had taken to them objectively. Harry and Hayley couldn't help who their parents were; they were hardly to blame. If anything, it drove her to nurture them as her own, shower them with love and let them live a happy life… something she was certain they wouldn't have had with You-Know-Who.

James, on the other hand, hadn't come around so easily. But even his stubbornness was no match for Lily's and the twins' chubby, innocent faces that stared at him in earnest all the time. Grudgingly, the marauder had told himself he could at least spite the bastard, making them the complete opposite of what he'd have desired; using his very blood against him.

_Autumn 1980_

Night had fallen on Godric's Hollow. Children of the village had finally been put to bed after the obligatory trick or treating come Halloween that day. Their parents, completely exhausted from chaperoning little tykes, finally set to extinguishing all lights and retiring gratefully to their beds. Amidst the fog of fatigue, guards were let down, the warning taken for granted.

No one would have fully expected what was to come later that night, in the waning of October.

Lily Potter stepped out of the bedroom in her night gown, leaving James to take the long hot shower they'd both pined for. Softly, she made her way through the open door opposite theirs. Subconsciously, a little grin had taken residence on her face as she peered into the cot. The babes gazed sleepily up at her, and however past their bedtime it was, they'd seemingly refused to sleep before Lily had routinely tucked them in. Although debatably, Hayley looked right oblivious to the world with her drooping eyelids.

As if he knew what was going through her mind, Harry _accidentally _nudged his sister with a chubby foot. The witch couldn't help her laughter at the wide eyed, disgruntled look of a rudely awoken girl.

"Alright, alright. Be nice, Harry." Gently, she draped the comfortable blanket over the two and with her fingers, she pushed the edges under them, nice and snug. "There we go. Right then, follow Hayley. It's way past curfew young man."

James had been standing by the door long enough to see his wife admonish his _son_ lightly; long enough to see the affection in those brilliant emerald eyes as she lovingly kissed the twins on their foreheads. He had truly been against the whole arrangement that Dumbledore had unceremoniously dumped on them and he had really found himself hard pressed to see past their parentage to even accept the two. But discovering the overwhelming warmth for the twins in those painfully honest green eyes was getting under his skin though not exactly in a bad way. It just completely bewildered him how Lily could even feel such as that for the **spawn** of the **most dangerous, most psychotic sociopath** he'd ever known. Hell, that the _world_ had ever known. Grindewald aside, that is. How could she, dare he say it, love something filled with so much evil?

But that was where he was wrong, wasn't it? They weren't. They were just babies, completely innocent and clueless to the harshness and cruelty that was the reality of the world; unsuspecting of how nauseatingly dark and evil it really was under the sweet pretense. The twins were like a blank canvas whose colors were dependent on Lily and him to decide.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time he dropped the prejudice and cared for them as a father.

"Lils…" he called out gently, careful not startle her. The red-haired witch turned instantly at her name, answering her husband with a smile. With her hand, she beckoned him to her side. James obliged and hugged her close to him with an arm as he watched the twins sleep.

"Aren't they precious?" she asked faintly, looking up at him. While it still made him uncomfortable - her choice of words towards the babies – he wasn't about to ruin her mood. He gave a nod, one as reassuring and convincing as he could. James was rewarded with an even wider smile.

The grounds of Godric's Hollow were as silent as a graveyard, not a single creature seemed to dare make a sound that night. In the darkness of the moon holding fast to its shield of clouds, two hooded figures suddenly materialized from nowhere. Entirely concealed by the gloom, not a soul knew of their presence for there was not even a speck of light. Certainly not from the crescent moon, and not from the stars either. It was as if they feared having to bear witness the imminent horrors that were to befall that night and had so thought it better to make themselves scarce.

The figures quite literally glided over the earth, the quiet rustling of their heavy cloaks being the only thing that would have broken the silence. Although as luck would have it, an unexpectedly strong gust masked the sound as the fallen leaves were thrown into disarray, scattering noisily in the wind amidst the shivering trees.

They stood before the wooden door of the quiet house. The taller of the two took a step to the left of his partner before a strange hissing could be discerned if one strained their ears. There was a pregnant pause that followed. Now, in this instance, if one squinted unbelievably hard and knew just where to look, a rather large, long _something_ could be seen moving rather quickly in a zigzag fashion towards the two.

A huge python, as it appeared to be, gathered itself in a neat coil before them, its bulk amassing to about half their height. One figure, the tall one, stuck out a hand, pointing to a pipe just beside the great serpent. It was the plumbing of the house, a tiny overlooked opening, the only opening that was not sealed. There were hundreds of wards thrown onto the house, making it impossible to trespass without alerting anybody, so really, the only way in was through there.

For a moment, the python looked positively peeved and offended, probably at the notion of entering the slimy pipe, but that wasn't really possible. No, reptiles could not show emotions, could they?

In a flash, there was nothing but the brief flicker of a tail as it disappeared into the plumbing to suggest that the reptile had even been there. And so in the darkness, they waited.

Two minutes crept by.

Another.

And then a piercing scream.

It had all happened so fast. She had watched James return to their room as he left her to the twins for a little longer before turning her attention back to the cot. A scant moment later, she had heard a gasp of surprise and then an unmistakable thud of a body impacting the ground. A little shaken, she made to investigate. Normally, rational Lily would be in charge and would have well laughed to herself at James' innate ability to be a klutz, but it was Halloween. And for some peculiar reason, this particular Halloween among all others, felt disturbingly off. An inexplicable paranoia had taken residence in her heart from the moment twilight had arrived.

There was something in the air that night that didn't quite seem right, that seemed… almost foreboding.

Reassuring herself that she was just being silly and berating herself for entertaining such foolish paranoia, Lily boldly crossed the threshold and opened the door.

She was greeted with the sight of James' immobile body on the floor and let out an involuntary shriek. There was only a second to take in the unearthly paleness and rigidity of her husband before a loud hissing made itself known. Adrenaline racing through her, senses reeling in fright, Lily dropped her gaze sharply to the ground where her emerald eyes came face to face an enormous snake poised to strike. She had no time to think, no time to let panic overrule her. She had a fraction of a second to act; she had to leave it to instinct.

With a mental apology begging James to forgive her for leaving him there, she flung herself backwards into the room, slamming the door shut just as the serpent shot forward. Knowing it wouldn't do much good anyhow, Lily still locked the door, lapping up any sense of security whatever could give her. Whipping out her wand, she plastered herself to the front of the cot. She wasn't aware of whether the babies had awoken from her scream-they in all likelihood probably had- for the only thought in her head was to keep them safe. All she knew was that she was going to protect the children at all costs.

Lily heard the loud banging as the multitude of wards were obliterated successively, and the sound seemed unduly amplified to her overly adrenaline-induced heightened senses. Steadily, despite herself, she felt the dread increase with each bang. The ridiculously loud hammering of her heart against her chest wasn't helping matters any either.

Disconcertingly, for a long moment, she could hear only the rapid beating of her heart. No banging, no pounding of hurried footsteps. It reminded her terribly of those Muggle thriller movies she'd watched in an almost distant past. As a little girl she'd always hidden behind the pillow and whimpered when she heard the gunshots as the door was forced open and its occupants eventually killed after some lengthy dialogue.

Those memories made the fact that this was actually happening hit home even harder. Here she was playing the role of the helpless occupant while whoever it was beyond her sanctuary was the proverbial _bad guys_. Although much to her distress, there was a pivotal difference between what she was facing and those shows – there was no restart button, no way to make light the loss of life; there was no going back if she died, something that seemed inevitable for characters filling her role. The harshness and disturbing reality of the entire situation she was in made her teeter on the edge of hyperventilation.

The atmosphere and tension in the air was uncannily like what she had felt all those years ago whilst she had stared at the television; the typical sequence of events, the reactions of the actors and actresses. But that was where the similarities ended. Where the victim would have watched in horror as the locked doorknob twisted violently and the coarse muffled voices of the enemy filter through, Lily could but watch with widened eyes as the door was simply blasted apart. There had been no warning. No wasting of time.

On hindsight, Lily could not find a way to explain how the fear that had been consuming her just suddenly disappeared as she looked into the eyes of the murderer. Correction, murderer_s_. To hell with the characteristic hopeless and helplessness that had so frustrated her as a little girl. Unlike those clichéd films, Lily was determined to differ, to at least try and fight her way out of her supposedly inevitable demise. Simply succumbing to them would be like betraying her personality. How else had she fended off James (oh lord, James…) for those many years if not for her tenacity. Finally getting a grip, she felt the Gryffindor in her rise to its full height.

Illuminated by the light of the room, Lily saw the mask covered faces of the two cloaked figures. Death Eaters.

Without a second thought, she yelled the Disarming Charm. The taller of the two waited till the last possible instant before sidestepping. With reflexes that had been a mite slower than hers, the second Death Eater was taken by surprise. The spell smashed into the figure who collided into the wall behind with a grunt. His wand flew out of his hand and clattered noisily to the floor.

"What the bloo- " The man silenced himself instantly at a warning hand outstretched from his partner. But it had been enough. Lily had immediately recognized that cultured drawl to be Lucius Malfoy's. She took the pause to attack the other again. But once more, it failed to hit its mark, the spell deflected by an almost lazy flick of a wrist.

"_Expulso," _the unknown Death Eater said in what faintly sounded like a hiss. It sent a shiver down her spine at how eerily calm the man was but banished the thought as she just barely cried '_Protego!'_ in time.

"_Incarcerous." _

Lily felt those invisible ropes encircle her, cutting painfully into her flesh through the clothes. Useless as it was, she tried valiantly to struggle still.

"Lucius, leave the Mudblood to me," the voice continued in a strange hiss. "Entertain yourself with Nagini and Potter." Hearing its name, the great serpent's head came into view through the doorway. Lucius' body tensed, as if he was going to protest but a sharp look from his partner and he was sufficiently cowed. Lily felt her heart skip a beat when she saw the man bow, stiffly but respectfully nonetheless. Links were hastily being made in her head. _It couldn't be. _

Lily didn't want to believe what the signs were pointing to. She really didn't, but the outright hissing - not just a peculiar accent or lisp – directed at the snake, the bowing from a _Malfoy_ and inhuman reflexes could only confirm her suspicions. There was only one Parselmouth that was if at all known to the world at present, and he was also reported to own a deadly killing machine – an enormous python that was his familiar.

The Dark Lord himself.

With a deliberate slowness, the feared warlock moved closer to Lily and the twins. She couldn't stop the desperation that clawed at her very being, the intense need to free herself. She cursed fiercely in her head for losing her composure and all her knowledge along with it. How could she get a blasted mind block NOW of all the ruddy times? As far as she knew, there was no way out of the spell. Deciding that there wasn't another option, Lily concentrated as best she could on imagining the bonds snapping loose from her body. Over and over, she placed that image in her head, willing this to work.

The Dark Lord brought a pale white hand to his matte black mask and removed it. A sardonic smile quirked the lips on his unduly handsome face as he watched the woman before him cry in hysterical euphoria at successfully performing her little bit of wandless magic.

"Bravo."

His voice seemed to break her out of her reverie for the witch snapped her head up to face him. He was amused to see the usual look of belligerence that had been adorned by most of the braver few that had stood up to him. Much to his wry amusement, the expression would always slacken away into subconscious mesmerization as their gaze would find and land on a more interesting target. His blood-red eyes had become Lily's centre of attention whether she so willed it or not. She was drawn to them, fascinated yet discomforted but she could not look away.

"I am going to give you an option, witch," Lord Voldemort said in a pretentious lull, his arm gradually rising to point his wand right over her heart. "Step aside and give me the twins, or die by my wand."

Fire burned in those emerald eyes as the woman got past her daze.

"I will not abandon them to _you,_" she spat. The Dark Lord looked genuinely startled, even if only a little.

"So you would face death rather than hand them over to me? One must wonder why..." A small frown creased between his brows.

"I would never let you taint something so pure and innocent as my babies," the brief quiver at declaring them hers was not lost on the warlock.

"Your…'babies'? Do not lie, mudblood! How DARE you claim them as your own! DAMN her and that meddling old fool, and CURSE you for ever taking them away!" Lily was rooted to the spot by the uncontrolled magic that was unleashed from the Dark Lord. The anger emanated from him in overwhelming waves as his eyes seemed to glow in rage. "You had no right," he hissed dangerously.

"W-We, s-she was just doing what she thought was right for them. What sort of life would they have under you!" Lily had no idea where she was coming from but the words had slipped out before she could think twice.

Life was a ridiculously strange and mysterious thing. As it were, a debate on rights and custody over the Dark Lord's children was the only thing keeping her alive. Lily would have very much liked to burst into hysterics right there and then.

"One you would never know if you do not hand them over. You are making this unnecessarily tedious, Potter."

She was about to retort when she found herself lacking a voice. When the hell had he cast a Silencing Charm on her?

Lord Voldemort threw her wand across the room before he stood directly before her, trapping her between the cot and himself.

"That's right. You will listen to me, witch. You could well have been dead before you even knew what hit you." At her defiant jerk of her head, he narrowed his eyes. "'Why didn't I', you say? I contemplate sparing your worthless life because of a certain begging someone did on your behalf. Oh no, not James Potter. Alas, I agreed not to reveal his name. Perhaps it shall give you something to muse over if you decide to live." Lily seemed befuddled. Who could have had strong enough an influence to persuade the Dark Lord?

"Look at me, mudblood." Her instincts screamed at her not to but yet again, her body reacted before her mind had taken charge. She felt something invade her mind, parting through memories viciously with ease. She had never felt so exposed and violated in her life and would have screamed if her voice had allowed it.

When the sensation finally passed, Lily sagged against the cot like she'd just run a marathon. She felt emotionally drained.

"'Harry and Hayley'? How you sully their birth names with such filth. And love? So you love them, do you? How…disgustingly sweet…" There was ire hidden behind the wry amusement of his blood-red eyes.

"Lily, was it? I'm really not asking for much, do you realize?" His voice was soothing, hypnotic. "All I want is to have what is mine returned to me. Just like any parent, I want my children by me again."

Leaning till he was beside her ear, he whispered, "Is that unfair? Answer me, Lily."

It was undeniably justified. Though a part of her knew something was flawed, that it just wasn't right, she could do nothing but grudgingly nod.

"I have been yearning to see them for months now… do you know the pain of being torn apart from your children, Lily…? Can you even imagine?" Memories of the anguish she'd seen in those around her as they faced their losses because of this accursed war surfaced in her mind. Again, she nodded.

"Oh, really? You can, can you?" Lily felt her resolve slowly chip away. "As I said, all I want is to have them back. Return them to me and you live. Return them to me and you and your husband can go on with your merry little lives, spreading inspiring stories of how you survived an encounter with the notorious Dark Lord."

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. So focused on surviving she'd been, Lily had not taken much notice of the children. To her surprise, there were no tear stains, they had not cried at all, not at the loud noises, not at the magical pressure that filled the room. They had just watched in silence, observing the whole event with eyes that shone with intelligence and wariness far beyond their years. It was as if they understood perfectly everything that was going on around them.

She felt herself give in to the push and stepped aside as the Dark Lord leaned over the cot, face still impassive as he brushed a hand against Harry's cheek. The twins showed no fear or revulsion to the stranger as they tended to; rather they gave the warlock their undivided attention and clambered at him with familiarity.

"Yes, Lily Potter, Nagini has not yet killed your husband. She will if I but command it. But no, Potter is not dead." Turning away from the twins, those blood-red eyes locked onto hers again. "So what do you choose, Lily? The life or death of you and your husband lies in your answer.

"_Finite Incantatum._"

"What will it be?"

Lily felt torn. The weight of the moment pressed down on her terribly. All the books in the world could not have prepared her for this question.

She knew that should she choose life, she would have to live with the knowledge that she had been a coward to blatantly relinquish the twins to the Dark Lord when the very purpose of Dumbledore's actions had been not to. She would be seen by the world to have been swayed by the fear of death and so jeopardized the plans of the order for her own reasons. Although some may empathize somewhat with her rationale, the rest of the world would not be so forgiving should matters take a turn for the worst. Her reliability and the trust placed on her would be lost.

She knew very well what she was doing when she answered Lord Voldemort.

"Kill me. But please, let James live." She would not think so highly of herself as to make such a decision for another.

The Dark lord eyed her before raising his wand arm and pointing it straight at her. "That was not an option." Without hesitation, he said those two words:

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Lucius had been staring at the pathetic form of James Potter on the ground, all bloodied and bruised from his actions. Nagini had been coiled in a corner, content to watch him experiment several new hexes and curses on the man. He was unhappy that his Lord had as good as shut him out of the mission by casting _Muffliato_ but he was not about to make it known.

When he saw that flash of green light from the open doorway, he took it as his cue to finally enter. So the mudblood had chosen death, she'd rather die 'protecting' something that wasn't hers to begin with. Perhaps it was a nobler course to choose. Nagini slithered next to him as Lucius entered the bedroom once more.

It seemed a little misplaced, that softened expression on his Lord's face as he leaned over the twins. It did please Lucius, however, to know that the Dark Lord still held him as one of his most trusted. To Lord Voldemort, Lucius wasn't simply a Death Eater in his inner circle. He was about as close as anybody could get to the man, not even Bella could come close to having such a privilege. It was only before Nagini and him that the warlock would ever show such an emotion.

Nagini slithered up to her master as she peered at the quiet twins. Gently, he left the boy and the girl in her care. The python cradled the infants with her massive body and made for the exit.

"My lord?"

"It is time to leave. I imagine this place will be swarming with Aurors soon enough."

Lucius hastened to follow as they strode out of the house. With a quick glance over his shoulder as they stepped over James' body, Lucius voiced his question.

"What of Potter?"

Lord Voldemort paused in his stride to spare the unconscious man a look. He had indeed told Lily that exchanging her life for his was not an option hadn't he… clearly she hadn't thought it through. The man smirked before moving on.

"Leave him. I believe living a life without his beloved wife would hurt far more than death."

* * *

**A/N: **Well that's that. I hope you liked the first chapter.

Spells:

_Expulso_ – A spell that causes an object to explode. The force of the explosion may depend on the intent of the caster.

_Incarcerous _- Ties someone or something up with ropes.

_Muffliato _- Keeps nearby people, or those to whom the wand is directed, from hearing nearby conversations

Source: Wikipedia


	2. The Riddles

**A/N: read this!** it's like half past midnight, i'm retyping this a second time coz ffnet messed with me. I'm hiding from my mother who i fear is about to come out and yell at me for still being on the com... yea, my exam is tomorrow. hahar. shite. Anyway, this is probably filled with errors and stuff but i wanted to upload this asap. I'll come back to editing it some time later in the day. I hope you'll enjoy this. Oh, thank you again for the reviews! I can't express enough how much they mean to me.

anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter and reviews are appreciated! =)

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1986

1986

_Little, little Erebus…where do you hide, little one? _

A giant python slithered through the inner hallway of the vast bedroom chamber, deliberately ignoring the fact that her senses could already tell her where the boy was. The room was a massive expanse of space consisting of two rows of gothic pillars that flanked the main hallway past the great oak doors, a large nursery (that really was more of a study area), and of course the children's shared bedroom at the far end. Antique candleholders lined the walls and on the whole, it was rather dimly lit.

Not that it was a problem for the occupants, or least of all Nagini.

She moved to the closet, nudging the door open as she peered into the rows of drawers.

_Little Melantha…will you tell me where you brother is?_

If Nagini could smile, she would have as she picked up the soft giggle. The scent of her youngling wafted in as she caught sight of the deep green dress poking out from behind a gothic pillar up front.

_"Erebus is… …in room…behind door…_"

The python slithered quickly to the little girl and feigned pouncing on her. She gave a startled yelp before hugging the serpent as if her life depended on it.

_Your Parseltongue is improving, child…_

The girl shyly conceded a tiny smile as she lowered her head somewhat. Melantha, as she was called, looked as if she was going to speak when a door to their right swung open sharply.

_"Stop playing games, Nagini…You knew where I was. Will you both just come in already?"_ a vaguely impatient voice hissed. There, standing by the entrance to the nursery, was a young boy with mildly wavy ebony hair who looked almost pretty enough to be mistaken for a girl. Parted to the left, rich brown locks curled and framed the side of his face as a little of it fell across glistening crimson eyes. Relatively tall for one his age, he was albeit a mite slight. There was, however (and much to his relief), an air to him, in the way he carried himself, that told those who dealt with him that he was still masculine enough to be acknowledged as a boy, thank you very much.

His sister was quite literally a splitting image of him. One would either have to be nitpicking or stating the obvious to spot the differences. Melantha was definitely more feminine, she was a bit shorter than the boy and her ebony hair was longer as it fell to her shoulders where her brother's was much less so (**naturally**…-ahem-). Of course, lest you thought yourself smart to point out the differing genders (for which you would then promptly be called a plumb idiot), that usually went unmentioned.

Aside from such appearances, the most unique and unmistakably characteristic trait that the twins shared was the pair of enigmatic blood-red eyes. The acute and calculating gaze reflected in them was not something one would think to see in a six-year-old. Several had shuddered involuntarily upon first seeing those piercing eyes; they seemed to bear right through your soul.

_I am teaching your sister, Erebus. Just because you have a better command of Parseltongue doesn't mean you are to be impatient with her. _ Nagini reprimanded as she tugged on Melantha with her tail whilst heading for the boy. She had, of course, noticed that the moment Erebus had interrupted his sister, an impassive mask that seemed to run in the family had instantly slipped back into place. The python poked the boy forcefully with her head as punishment, hissing, _And if you speak to me like that again, I shall tell your father, Erebus. He will not be pleased._

If it troubled him, Erebus did not show it. In fact, even when he had spoken with that irritation, his face had displayed not a single emotion. The boy merely bowed stiffly by way of an apology before moving back into the nursery, letting the two follow suit.

The nursery, for all intents and purposes, was like a reading room, a study lounge, for the children had rarely ever 'played' there. There was an absence of toys, bright wallpapers and the like, nothing you'd think to see in a room of such a nature.

Erebus returned to his seat in front of a low flame crackling in the fireplace whereupon he picked up the book he had been perusing.

_I assume that was the source of your frustration, little Erebus?_ Nagini commented as she read the title of the well used tome.

The boy looked at his estranged interpretation of a mother before nodding his head.

"_I'm sorry, Nagini. It was unacceptable of me, I know." _She thumped his head gently with her tail in what one could possibly deem as affection. To Melantha, on the other hand, Nagini watched in silent fascination, the puzzling form of communication between the siblings as it was very subtly displayed before her.

It was intricate, impossible to fully decipher and even harder to imitate; which all made for an effective and imperceptible covert language for none could hope to intercept any information being passed on in such a manner. It had taken the serpent years of observation before she began to pick up but a fraction of all that was encompassed in this 'language'. They came in innumerable forms, from the slightest alterations of body movements, the body language of either sibling, to the subtle and brief nuances of facial expressions often lasting for a bare flicker of a moment…

To the normal person who happened to look in on the nursery, they wouldn't have thought anything different; simply a giant python and two children standing around a table… about as normal as one could get considering the circumstances. But Nagini had seen it, there was a minute widening of crimson eyes as they seemed to flash in the light of the fire before Melantha responded by closing her eyes and opening them sharply to look at her brother. She then inclined her a little and that was that.

Terribly befuddling, really.

_"Why had you been looking for me, Nagini?" _Erebus inquired after a moment, his eyes now back to focusing on the book.

_Your father asked me to find you. He wishes to speak to the both of you. Likely, there is going to be a change to your living arrangements for a while. _

As emotionless as the twins typically were, they did express their confusion by cocking their heads to the side. At the same time. Regardless, they said not another word but obediently followed orders. She was, after all, one of the few that they trusted enough to leave things unquestioned. The twins trailed Nagini out of their room and towards the high, black marbled corridors of the castle.

Lucius walked briskly towards the throne room, barely acknowledging his fellow Death Eaters as he hurried. If it weren't for his sense of dignity and pride, he would have been sprinting down the long corridor. As it were, he was coming dangerously close to becoming late. Swearing impressively in his head, the blonde turned past a corner and glanced at the time as he conjured it with a muttered spell. He had about a minute and a half. _Bollocks. _Glancing over his shoulder and thankfully seeing no one around for the span between him and the double oak doors up ahead, Lucius threw image to the wind and ran.

The oak doors opened with its usual creak which earned an inward wince from the occupant sitting atop the throne.

"My Lord," Lucius Malfoy greeted reverently as he crossed the cold stone floor of the chamber and kneeled.

"Rise, Lucius," the raven haired man commanded, his velvety voice never rising above its usual softness.

Getting to his feet, Lucius looked at the Dark Lord, not directly into his eyes, mind you, just somewhere in the general direction. It would seem he wasn't the one who was late.

Just then, the sound of a pair of footfalls echoed about the high walls. From behind the throne, a lone shadow danced as it was cast on the ground by the light from the candles. As it disappeared from sight, two small figures emerged from either side of the seat. Lucius could have sworn he'd only seen one shadow.

The way in which the twins moved in perfect synchronization and spoke at times, in perfect synchronization, somewhat unnerved even the bravest of men. It was eerie that they seemed to know exactly what was going through each other's minds, some invisible mental link that existed just between them. The fact that they carried an air of quiet strength and behaved with such reserve and poise that didn't fit the bodies of a six year old didn't help them to assimilate into the 'normal' category at all either.

But they had never been normal in the first place. They had forgone that from the moment they were born to the Dark Lord.

The twins moved in unison to face Lord Voldemort and they gave him a precise bow from the waist. "**Father,**" they chorused. The man voiced no affection, no endearment, no vocal manifestation to let anyone think he cared about them in the slightest. Devoid of feelings, he only acknowledged their presence, "Erebus. Melantha." .

The thing was, the Dark Lord couldn't be seen as human. In front of his Death Eaters, he had an image to uphold, it was necessary to incite fear, to seem distant to the point of being inhuman. And aside from merely being a front, it was also necessary for his self-preservation. Emotions were a tricky and impeding complication when it came to what he had to do. There was no place for it in taking lives. Conscience would just hold him back. It didn't matter that a part of him may argue with it, Tom Riddle just had to suppress it and convince himself that love, fear, grief were only for the weak. They were the vilest and most corruptive emotions mankind could have ever conjured.

And for the sake of his children, he had to make them share his belief. It was the only way they would not get harmed, the only way to destroy their becoming vulnerable to the brutalities that the world would inflict upon them for the sole reason that they were his. Life worked around the survival of the fittest and it was a simple concept. The less inclined they were to emotional attachments, to being swayed by emotions, the better. And love was on the top of the blacklist. It was a weakness waiting to be exploited. Yet, if it was impossible to destroy emotions, at the least, it was imperative to shield them. What others didn't know, they could not manipulate.

Lucius Malfoy was, of course, completely privy to all of this. Therefore he was a tad taken aback when the Dark Lord placed a hand on his daughter's head. Even if it seemed like an afterthought.

Erebus and Melantha next greeted him, once again chorusing in that skin-crawling saccharine voice that children possessed. But which in this case did not suit the expressionless faces.

"Erebus. Melantha." He replied with a short bow in respect.

There was an awkward pause thereafter that made Lucius highly tempted to fidget, but he pushed it aside as his master began to speak.

"As I have previously informed you, Lucius, I will be leaving to take care of something tomorrow. Alone. The Death Eaters are to lie low for the duration of my absence. See to it that none of them does something idiotic on impulse, will you? I know that Lestrange, Crabbe and Goyle seem to have this insufferable restlessness and a passion for dramatics," said the Dark Lord, a noticeable annoyance plain in his last sentence. Malfoy smirked, understanding what his Lord was referring to. The three of them often let their irrational, sadistic wants get out of hand and most of the time, it meant more work for the Death Eaters so that unnecessary attention wasn't drawn. "I expect you to report straight to me upon my return if there are any such occurrences."

The glint in crimson eyes made Lucius hope that the aforementioned three would have the brains to control themselves. He shuddered at the thought of the consequences of their actions should they choose to behave otherwise.

"Erebus, Melantha, you will be placed in Lucius and Narcissa's care for the time being. You will behave yourselves, you will not make a nuisance of yourselves. Both of you will listen to them and I do not wish to hear a single complaint about either of you."

Oddly, it sounded like a normal conversation between a parent and child. Except for the fact that it was more of an order laced with an unspoken threat rather than simply a strict warning any parent would give.

The twins knew that Malfoy would never dream of launching a complaint to the Dark Lord even if they were being a pain. But they kept this to themselves, opting to please Lord Voldemort with an obedient nod and a reassuring "**Yes, father**" instead. They knew that Lucius doted on them too much to do such a thing and so the feeling was mutual. Besides, they were well trained to the point of being the epitome of obedience.

"How long will this be for, father?" the soft voice of Melantha piped up. The Dark Lord glanced down to his left and met those familiar blood-red eyes.

"It is indefinite, Melantha. Perhaps two weeks at the least." Lucius caught the flicker of disappointment in the girl's face before she admirably resumed her impassive mask. He hadn't noticed that Erebus' gaze had fallen onto him until he had felt a subconscious pull from his left. Turning, he saw the question in his eyes.

"I assure you, Erebus, that you need not worry yourself. It is no trouble for Narcissa and myself at all. I am certain Draco would be pleased to have the company of Melantha and yourself. He is quite alone at home and it has been a while since the three of you last met, no?"

The boy gave an imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, as if saying: I suppose. Unlike his sister, his face had truly betrayed not a hint of emotion. A carbon copy of his father, Lucius decided.

"Now then, return to your room and gather what you require. Nagini shall help you, I'm sure." Melantha gave a little curtsy before turning on her heel and leaving from where she had entered. Similarly, Lucius bowed low and strode briskly out of the door, politely excusing himself. Erebus had felt his father tugging his mind gingerly somewhere during the middle of their little meeting and had followed his instincts, assuming that his lingering around after dismissal was wished for. The boy had thus promptly informed his sister mentally of his presumption.

As it turned out, he had presumed right.

"Father," Erebus dropped his guard once certain that both doors were closed and it was just the two of them.

The Dark Lord rose from his seat and moved instead to lean against its armrest in order to face his son.

"Give me your promise that you will look after your sister. I need your word that you will watch her…," he said, lowering his voice and allowing a mild tenderness to seep in.

"Of course, Father. You… know of her situation then?"

Tom Riddle raised an eyebrow and fixed his son with an un-amused glare. That worked to make Erebus realize how daft a question it'd been and to his credit, faint color rose to his pale cheeks as he returned a sheepish look.

"Of course," the Dark Lord answered feeling somewhat nettled. "I am your father, child. You insult me by thinking me ignorant of my own children, Erebus."

He knew that it wasn't meant as a scolding but Erebus felt the fluttering of what seemed like hurt in his mind and so apologized in all sincerity. He cursed his momentary slip of speaking before it had been thought through.

"Your sister is confused. She doesn't comprehend and adapt as easily as you can, Erebus. And I worry that she will lose sight of the path."

"I will guide her, then." Tom graced the boy with a wry grin at the look of determination on his face. It really was like watching a mirror image of himself.

A certain matter had been nagging him for quite some time now and every time he pondered over it, a frown would inevitably form. He dreaded the reply he would get should he ask it. But there was no other way about it; his children's welfare was more important to him than a great many things, really.

Quietly, seriousness weighing down on his words, the Dark Lord finally inquired, "How are your nights nowadays?"

He watched his son blink a few times, getting his emotions under control before replying, "We still have the nightmares. Although none so harsh as to warrant disturbing you, Father. But you should know, Melantha seems to be affected by it more severely as compared to myself."

Lord Voldemort toyed with the information in his head. It was troubling how these nightmares would not leave them but worst still was that it could cause suffering even after the child had awoken.

"Perhaps I shall speak to her soon."

Erebus nodded in agreement.

"Well then, return to your sister." The boy acquiesced, heading for the concealed back door, only to be halted once more.

"Erebus, does that particular dream still haunt you?" With his father's back turned to him, Erebus felt it relatively safe to indulge in the particular heavy feeling that coursed through him. Subconsciously, he raised a hand to rub absentmindedly at a coarse line that ran in an odd shape on his forehead that was almost always hidden by his fringe.

"Yes, Father. I still see that green light and then that annoying tingling happens…"

When he was met with a long stretch of silence, Erebus took it as his cue to leave his father to his thoughts.

Unceremoniously, Tom slumped back onto the throne, rubbing the bridge of his nose to ward off the incoming headache. He knew perfectly well what his son had been referring to. It wasn't really a nightmare. It was a terrible memory that his mind and heart just wasn't letting go of. And the tingling… well that was something he couldn't quite explain. Was it a result of what he'd paid in order to let his son safeguard for him a piece of his soul? Some unintended repercussion for taking the life of a woman who had apparently cared greatly for his son in exchange for performing the spell?

_Lord Voldemort watched the witch fall to the ground pathetically the instant the killing curse had hit her squarely. The countdown then began in his head. There was only a very small window of time in which he had to execute the ancient spell. Whilst the impact of the act of murder was still fresh, and his soul still vulnerable from being wrenched apart, the Dark Lord had to make the transfer. _

_Lithely, he made a laceration on his left arm and coated a palm with the blood. Taking the infant boy into his arms and exposing the child's chest, the warlock first placed a palm over it, initiating the chant. With the first phase complete, he quickly trailed the tip of his wand from the heart to the child's head, ending at the temple and never stopping the incantation. Following that, he resumed with just his hand, this time covering the boy's forehead and eyes. _

_The child had never made a sound till then. The second the Dark Lord felt the ritual come to an end, the babe gave a whimper and tears escaped from his eyes although thankfully, there was no screaming to deal with. Where the forehead had been unmarred and smooth, there now was an angry gash of sharp lines forming what appeared to be a lightning bolt. _

_Knowing better than to attempt any magic on what was likely a curse inflicted injury, the Dark Lord used his sleeve to clean away the blood that was beginning to trickle as best he could. _

_Replacing the child into the cot, and buttoning up the comfortable night shirt, he leaned over to simply look at his children. His own flesh and blood; what in time he would mould to become the perfect, most powerful wizards of the age. _

_A faint rustling to his left brought his attention to a new presence to the room. He could sense the magical aura of his most trusted Death Eater and his familiar as they entered the bedroom…..._

With a sigh, the Dark Lord closed his eyes. The revisiting of such draining memories, however pleasing seeing as it was the reunion, was for less exhausting days.

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**A/N: **i admit the ending seems rushed. you can imagine why. I'll probably edit that later on. tata for now!


	3. Malfoy Manor

**A/N: Right. read this here! **Um, Just like the previous chapter which i've procrastinated and thus i've yet to fully edit or even contemplate altering the ending... so please bear with me. The exams have finally passed, however disastrously, they've passed. that's what matters. i think. ANYWAY, this means i've more time to write! yay. I was going to actually add more to this chapter but i realised it'd be way too long so i've split it into two. Now, i'll likely re-edit and check for the errors proper tomorrow, but for now, please excuse all the terribly embarrassing grammatical errors and the like. I'll get to it. i promise.

w/o further ado, chapter 3. Happy reading!

**to reviewers of chapter 2: **I apologise for having not responded to them... most anyway. They came during the hell period so i was unable to answer them. Nonetheless, i shall do so now. THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. IT'S SO VERY ENCOURAGING. thank you. honestly. I hope you won't give up on this story =)

* * *

"Draco? Draco, do hurry, darling. Your father will be arriving with the twins any minute now," Narcissa called up the staircase. The boy up on the second level could hear a faint pop and the distraction of his mother as she was drawn away. He could just imagine her turning as her words became more muffled. Like a slow trickling as proper sentences fell away in light of her mind being somewhere else.

The little blonde quickly straightened his collared shirt, patted down his black slacks and dashed down in a huff. He prayed he was presentable enough.

"Draco, they've arrived." Narcissa's voice tapered as her son came rapidly into view. Skidding to a halt before the woman, Draco gave a hesitant smile at the raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, mother," the boy murmured with a hunch.

"Do remember to speak clearly, no mumbling, please," Draco expected to see her strict glare, only her gaze wasn't on him. It was to his left.

"Erebus, Melantha. How lovely to see you both!" The woman greeted warmly. It was Draco's turn as he raised his little eyebrows at the sincerity. He'd heard his mother say such things all too often in the courteous compliance to manners, but rarely was it ever meant. Yet, if he doubted his perceptions, his mother's actions more than spoke for itself. There was an almost imperceptible light to those grey eyes and odd zealousness in her movements. It was rather uncharacteristic of the normally poised and graceful woman.

Barring when she was dealing with him, of course.

Draco confidently strode behind his mother, peering from behind her as she bent down to give the two smallish figures a one-armed hug each. To break not one but two Malfoy-norms in a day... it was as if his mother was pushing for a record or something. From his place, Draco noted with some surprise that the portions of the children that weren't blocked by his mother actually stiffened before quickly _adapting_. He doubted his mother felt it; it had been an abrupt flutter that disappeared as fast as it'd been triggered.

"And you've met our son before, Draco these are our Lord's children. Do you remember each other?"

With his mother finally rising to relent the two of them to his full view, he was startlingly met with a pair of striking blood-red eyes. Ah yes, how could he forget; those crimson orbs did leave ever so _subtle_ a chill to him for _days…_

The boy…Erebus, as his mother had called him, looked straight at him intently. There was nothing for Draco to read on his face, nothing to tell what was going through the other boy's head.

_I'm not scared of you…_

Draco nearly jumped when he heard the soft hiss. He was certain nobody had even opened their mouths. The adults were simply looking on, waiting for a response from the children who were still sizing each other up. Well, the boys anyway. Swerving back to Erebus, he had a disturbing notion that it wasn't a hallucination. The once passive blood-red eyes now seemed almost teasing.

"Yes, we do remember, Mrs Malfoy," the twins chorused. The moment their voices registered in Draco's head, the confirmation hit him like a sledgehammer. _Bloody hell! _It really had been the boy who had been in his head! Distantly, he heard his mother reply, "Will you not simply call me Narcissa?"

"Draco." The sound of his father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and out of reflex, he felt his mouth close. Close…? Surely he hadn't had his mouth hanging open. Bah! The preposterousness… or … Draco noticed the pointed look Lucius was giving him and promptly wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it in shame. How on earth had he let his feelings get translated into an expression? He was supposed to feel shocked at the revelation INSIDE and not gape like a ruddy fish for the world to see!

Gathering and salvaging what little was left of his dignity, Draco composed himself and with all the upbringing of an aristocrat, he gave an affirmative as the twins had done. His father began to tell him his role as their companion blah blah blah… for Draco wasn't listening. The blonde was busying himself with carefully drawing up memories of his past to try and match the faces of the two standing in front of him.

Melantha caught his eye and he paused. Just like her brother, she showed not an iota of emotion. Until quite suddenly, there was a minute ripple of something across her face. He saw a little twitch about the corners of the faintly pink lips and then it grew hesitantly into a timid smile. At him. It didn't matter that it would otherwise have been nothing unusual for the most of mankind, the fact that one of the twins had graced him with such an act of warmth was… astounding. However inexplicable, Draco just knew deep down inside of him that this was an unbelievably rare thing to be coming from her; and it was something of an honor to be given thus much.

For all the confidence young Draco thought he possessed, the blonde felt Melantha's hesitancy and much to his displeasure, he found himself incapable of nothing else but reciprocating the shyness. As if testing the waters, Draco slowly, but surely, responded to the girl with a modest grin of his own.

This seemed to work as a non-vocal agreement between them. The grounds were clear, there would be no hostile fire. Melantha's smile didn't change but it now showed in her eyes.

A movement to her left tore Draco's focus to it. He grumbled inwardly, wishing his parents would just leave them to it so that he needn't keep hopping from one target to another whilst simultaneously keeping stock still as etiquette demanded. He watched Erebus glance down at his sister and note with wry amusement the smile on her face. The boy then turned to once again look at Draco. Involuntarily, the blonde swallowed thickly, Malfoy pride disappearing rapidly under the scrutinizing gaze. He'd never felt so judged or uncomfortable before. It dawned on him then that this feeling was uncanny to that which he felt when dealing with adults. Really serious adults like his father.

Simply interacting with the twins without even saying a word was already making him feel like he was doing this with a much, much older person trapped inside a child's body.

After a moment, Erebus' eyes softened and he too signaled a truce (though there hadn't even been a conflict to begin with… the word just felt most apt to Draco) with the blonde.

--- ---

"Father says all three of us will be sharing the same room," Draco announced as they trooped into his large bedroom. There were now two newly added beds to where there'd only been one.

"Um… this one's been mine so…" the blonde trailed off. It was still a peculiarity he was working around, the quietness that is. He wasn't really sure just how he should behave around the twins. On the one hand, they were the children of the most powerful dark wizard of the age and who just happened to be quite literally worshipped by his family and so by extension, himself. So he should be nothing but respectful and formal to the twins for they represented the Dark Lord… but on the other hand, Draco just found it unbelievably difficult to do so. In his eyes, they were just kids, peers! Sure, they were uncommonly reserved and quiet but there was hardly anything else that was special about them. How could he practically be kowtowing to somebody who was no different from himself? It would be like bowing to yourself the moment you caught your own reflection!

So, yes, the Malfoy heir was feeling more than a little petulant over this.

"We'll just take these two then, thank you," Erebus answered politely.

An uneasy silence hung limply in the room for the ensuing moments. Neither party knew what to say. Rather, Draco didn't know what to say, since the twins quite clearly seemed to be against initiating any conversations.

That was when the blonde saw their linked hands; Melantha's smaller fingers peeked out from where Erebus had enveloped them with his. A taunt was at the tip of Draco's tongue so quickly that it came to a surprise even to him that he'd had the notion of having such audacity.

He felt something boring into the back of his lowered head

Grey eyes met with cold crimson ones as Draco lifted his gaze. _I DARE you to comment_ those eyes seemed to say. Thinking better, the blonde bit back the taunt and chose to sidestep the observation altogether.

"What would you like to do now?"

The twins gave a shrug. Well, that helps…

"How about heading into the field behind the house?" The enormous Malfoy Manor took up a fraction of the property's grounds despite the mansion itself having two completely divided wings. The rest was a mixture of well kept greenery that led into the vast, untamable forest. Like any estate in the turn of the nineteenth century, the Malfoy manor extended for what felt like miles on end. The front of the manor was lead by a long stretch of impeccably maintained shallow waters lined by white marble and its strictly preserved lawn. The back of the Manor was first met with a large swimming pool but that was secondary in magnificence. What captured the eye was the almost endless expanse of green. The building itself was perched upon elevated ground so the land continued upwards to a mild peak before gently sloping down to the glorious woods. Grassy hills and red hued leaves that had changed with the approaching autumn embodied an unspoken beauty that rendered many speechless.

Much of the forest beyond what one could see was never actually claimed so the Malfoys had long taken it as part of the inheritance. Not that they couldn't just pay for it if the need arose.

As Draco wondered if the prolonged silence was a rejection to his secret, private haunt that he'd relinquished to sharing, the brightening of Melantha's face dashed such notions immediately.

--- ---

The afternoon passed uneventfully with the trio sitting atop the hills, basking in the sun and the glorious nature all around them. Draco was inwardly pleased that the twins seemed to be able to appreciate the innate peace and calm that it offered rather than dissing it in boredom after a while. They, like Draco, appeared somewhat comfortable with silence and doing nothing in this particular circumstance. This was way more than he could say about the other children he'd had to entertain when his parents had gotten their friends over. The Parkinsons' daughter, Pansy, had been a right whine, complaining loudly about the sheer waste of time, completely oblivious to its sacredness to Draco. The only other who might've come close to the twins' reaction was possibly Blaise Zabini.

But even then Draco could sense that the boy had just been being polite.

The twins were different. They gave the blonde the feeling that they really could see what he saw in this; that they genuinely liked this as compared to running around like a mad fool.

He had been about to ask if they'd like to head down further for a bit when Narcissa's voice rang from behind them. It had been time for them to be called back into the manor to clean up. Perhaps, Draco thought to himself, I'll ask them tomorrow.

--- ---

It was sometime past midnight when Draco was forced awake by a whimpering. He was an unfortunately light sleeper and used to be woken up all the time when his mother checked in on him every night in the past. Forgetting that he was now sharing his room with two others, his sleep-clouded mind struggled to place to what it belonged to. Surely there was no ghost in his bedroom… an intruder? But why on earth would an intruder be whimpering. In his room? For the life of him he couldn't figure it out and the longer it dragged on, the more it troubled him. Draco would never admit that he was especially frightened of such supernatural and inexplicable things when in the dark, but in truth he was terrified.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the blankets higher above his huddled shoulders, willing the noise to stop and disappear so that he could account for it with exhaustion-induced over imagination. It didn't work at all. In fact, it got louder and after a tense moment, a shuffling of bed sheets joined in. That jolted his memory – he wasn't alone this time.

He heard a low murmuring that just barely drowned out the whimpers; it was hushed and soothing and unmistakably meant to be comforting. Curiosity getting the better of him, Draco subtly pushed back his blanket and turned to lie on his side. Somehow, he had the distinct feeling that he shouldn't be watching this, hence the covertness.

Melantha, whose bed was the farthest to his right, was curled in a ball, tossing rather violently on the mattress, little pathetic noises emitting from the back of her throat. Her brother had moved to sit at the edge of his bed, an arm outstretched to shake her awake.

Minutes crept by and still the girl wouldn't wake up. Erebus rose from his seat and climbed instead into his twin's. With a strength that Draco hadn't expected the thin boy to have, Erebus lifted his sister from her fetal position, amidst all the struggling, and firmly pressed her to himself, the embrace quelling her aggression.

With a gasp and shuddering breath, the girl finally extracted herself from the prison that was her nightmares. Draco could hear shallow breathing and muffled sobs now. He didn't know why but he was unable to tear his eyes away from the two. He knew from stories and concepts and mild experiences, that familial bond, sibling attachments, could be very strong and powerful but what he was being personally privy to at the moment, topped it all. It felt far more intimate and just took the meaning to a different level.

As Erebus loosened his hold on his sister to merely hugging her, he rocked them both back and forth gently, all the while rubbing her back soothingly, whispering in hushed tones what Draco assumed to be sweet, reassuring nothings.

And that was when he quietly returned to his former position - still on his side but with his back to the twins. It felt too personal and private for anybody, like himself, to intrude upon further.

--- ---

A week had quickly passed from the time the twins were reintroduced to Draco and quite frankly, he had easily taken to them becoming part of his life. It was as if they'd been there with him all along. It wasn't that they were the best of friends or anything, no, they were still very quiet around each other – something Draco had had to grow accustomed to – but the silence was now a comfortable one. Surprisingly, the longer the blonde stayed with them, the more he realized how easy it was to get along with them. Their presence was fast to grow on you and their immaculate manners and politeness could never offend.

Draco had since gotten over the whole uneasiness about treating other children who were his own age with such respect. He'd come to accept it as a fact and came to terms with it. If he really thought about it, they weren't exactly your normal six-year-olds so whenever he interacted with them, Draco didn't feel like he was doing so to a six-year-old in any case. Not really, anyway. Rather, their serious demeanor, quiet pride and strength, not to mention Erebus' intimidation and charisma, would more than effortlessly incite this reflex (that they were to be treated formally) in most. Their parentage needn't even be mentioned.

However, Draco was fortunately one of the more mature children of his age. The same couldn't be said for the vast majority, as the visit on Tuesday was any proof.

The Parkinsons, Goyles and Crabbes had arrived at the Malfoy manor that day and while Draco was excited at having others to play with, he was also reminded of the discomforting thought that the three would be meeting the twins likely for the first time in person.

When the polite introductions had been made, the children were given the permission to be excused. Or in the twins' case, the adults had graciously addressed them separate from the rest, and with the most refined manners, invited them to join their children in their little games so that _they_ may carry out their meeting. The reason, as they'd so stated, was that _"It's rather confidential, Lord Erebus, Lady Melantha."_

The look of contempt and disgust that spread distastefully across Pansy Parkinson's face was duly noted by Draco, even if the rest of the world seemed ignorant of it. He had a sinking feeling that the girl was going to be mean about this and it made him feel queasy for some reason. But Draco didn't really feel much like saying anything to warn off possible snide actions. He'd rather wait and see if it was going to go out of hand before he chose to do anything. Truthfully, he wanted to hear what Pansy would say… if he had listened to his predictions, he'd say that chances were that she'd voice the very issues that still lingered beneath the surface. Albeit in a more insensitive and crass manner.

But then again, Mother had always reprimanded him for being belligerent and insensitive too, particularly when he was upset. And he had the feeling he would've been just that if he were to ever say the things he wanted to that resided and festered occasionally within him.

Draco led the way to the play room in the left wing of the mansion. He had rarely been in there the past week, seeing as how the twins had shown no interest in it, and being the host, Draco had had to acquiesce. Almost by instinct, the more childish side of the blonde kicked in once he laid eyes on the broomsticks neatly hung on a rack upon the beige wall.

"Let's fly. You girls can do…whatever it is you do, right?" Draco remarked, forgetting himself in the giddy anticipation of being in the air again. The domineering nature that came with being the spoilt, only child of the richest family in the wizarding world finally surfaced. Most can really never hide what they ware deep inside, Erebus supposed with wry amusement. Nobody can suppress their true self for long. **Most**, anyway.

The son of the Dark Lord casually overlooked the far from gracious manners that he knew Narcissa would have expected Draco to uphold at all times and said nothing about the way in which his sister, and by extension, himself, was being addressed. He felt certain the adults would have been outraged. But it was a small matter and so he would play along with the blonde.

Melantha had instantly been awashed with dread when she heard that she was being banished to spend time alone with the new girl, (Pansy, was it?) and away from her brother. She didn't connect well with other girls, not that she'd had much practice, and while it wasn't that she was a tomboy and so rejected girls at this age, Melantha just honestly felt uncomfortable with the omnipresent sneer she sensed was being shot her way. Her father had trained her from young never to fear the unknown so easily. He had shown her the strength of the power she possessed and he had told her never to fear using it when necessary. He had drilled into her the fact that she should neither let anybody or anything get to her, nor show what she was feeling so as to have nothing up for manipulation; that she should always remember who she is and how it placed her well above the rest - she was Salazaar Slytherin's heir.

But no matter how many times she'd tried to convince herself that she was going to be alright, that she could as hell handle a fellow six-year-old, Melantha had never felt so helpless. She looked sharply at Erebus, speaking to him with their little language.

_Don't leave me _

Her twin shifted his foot, changing upon which he rested his weight on.

_Why? You're fine back in the castle._

The hand that was gripping the hem of her sleeve tightened till the knuckles turned white. She quickly released her hold on it, as if burnt by fire.

Erebus knew that to mean an almost frantic desperation that he heed her request. It struck him as very odd. He was, of course, just teasing his sister with no agreeing outright but his comment had been sincere. From observations, Erebus knew that Melantha was very much at ease being on her own for extensive lengths of time back in Father's castle… so why the hesitancy? Surely she wasn't afraid of that other girl. That would be ludicrous.

And yet there could be no other explanation.

Erebus hated that his sister was so weak sometimes. He just couldn't understand why she was incapable of detaching herself and being as confident as he. But he would never voice these thoughts, not unless there was a time that required it. Erebus was going to keep his word to his father, he would without a doubt, guide his sister, no matter how tedious or how strenuous.

The link that exists between twins has always been a mystery never fully explored but Erebus and Melantha had recognized its existence and had been working on maximizing its powers since they were born. She was his world and she alone held half of what made him whole. Neither could survive without the other; that was the extent to which they'd both taken their bond to.

_Alright. I won't leave you, Mela._

"Draco…? I suppose we could let them follow us to the fields, no?" Erebus made a show of looking like he was letting a great sacrifice by allowing the girls accompany them.

The blonde seemed startled at hearing his voice but recovered quickly. Remembering himself, he addressed the ebony haired girl with a little more manners, agreeing with Erebus, shrugging.

With that decided, the boys left with brooms hefted over their shoulders and the girls trailing behind. Pansy leeched onto Draco, yammering on about nothing and everything much to his dismay, though she conveniently ignored it.

Erebus gave his sister a final backward glance before trailing behind.

--- ---

"You can't catch me Goyle!" The boys were playing a wizard version of tag, their brooms whizzing past each other, the childish shouting of the three boys filled the air. Erebus simply hung around at a corner of the wide space, only blitzing and pushing the limits of his child-tailored broom when he caught signs of being targeted. He was rather content with watching the others and analyzing their behaviors from his vantage point… and thereafter thanking the high heavens that he was nothing like them.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes as Crabbe and Goyle carried their bulky selves atop the brooms, clumsily making their way about the air as Draco darted lithely away from them. It was unfairly one sided, this game.

Curling his fingers around the end of his broomstick, Erebus lazily glided about, relishing the cool air as it caressed his face. Vaguely, he heard the panting breaths of the larger boys and Draco's contemptuous tone as he dismissed them, granting them the reprieve they'd sought. Looking behind, he saw the blonde accelerating towards him. Draco slowed down as he came on level with Erebus.

"They're tired, they say. Useless, those two." Draco muttered in irritation. His dark haired companion answered with a smirk.

Taking it as a sign to continue with the informality, he eased up and asked of Erebus, "So… would you like to see the grounds from here? It's rather nice, in my opinion."

Decided, they spent the next fifteen minutes just flying leisurely over the entire property while Draco simultaneously gave a brief commentary on certain places. He pointed out where the small lake was on the eastern sides of the woods, where he liked to go walking during a nice day, where he enjoyed drawing or napping… …

Erebus found himself relenting a small smile as time wore on. Draco's joy in what he spoke of was infectious.

But this peacefulness was short-lived as Erebus suddenly felt a sudden wave of fear and panic that quite nearly bowled him over. The emotions were so raw and real that it left him disoriented and shaken, unclear of where it'd come from.

"Erebus!" the raised voice of Draco snapped him out of his daze. It gave him time enough to piece together the influx of images racing through his head. The tidal wave of feelings had come from the mental link and the images that were flashing before him came from his mind's eye… so that had to mean –

"Erebus, look!"

Sure enough, though quite distant, Erebus could still make out the increasingly hunched and slight figure of his sister… being cornered and bullied by one Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

**A/N: **Well that's that. Will edit later. I hope you enjoyed this. PLEASE REVIEW. if you'd like to, anyway. It's just that it's nice to hear that i've not made a mess of things. Anyway, stay tuned! =) see ya'll in the next chapter!


	4. Children

**A/N: **I apologise for the delay in having up this chapter. It was particularly difficult to write. Likely, it's not a lot by far, but it was the first time that i'd had to re-write a chapter completely. I had some problems trying to make the children seem like six-year-olds. I have a terribly feeling they're still too old. Oh no. Hah. In any case, thank you for sticking with me so far and i hope you enjoy this chapter!

P.S: THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN FOR THE REVIEWS! I HAVEN'T HAD THE TIME TO RESPOND RECENTLY BECAUSE OF ANOTHER LOT OF EXAMS BUT I'LL ANSWER COMING REVIEWS! (if i get any)

* * *

"Isn't Kelly pretty?" Pansy Parkinson cooed for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Melantha and her 'playmate' had been allowed to follow the boys out of doors to watch them fly about on their broomsticks whilst they did their 'girl' things, as Draco had so eloquently put it. The ebony haired child had had to resist rolling her eyes at the comment. As far as she was concerned, anything remotely girly was rather distasteful and dolls were simply the worst.

But as luck would have it, it was the only thing that Pansy wanted to do. So, being brought up the way she had been, Melantha had graciously gone along with it, agreeably keeping the girl company even though every second seemed to crawl by painfully and she wanted nothing more than to flee to her brother or the adults. Most anything would have been a welcomed change to sitting out amidst gorgeous Mother Nature and wasting her time playing with a fake, disproportionate piece of plastic – an activity that guaranteed the deterioration of intelligence with its sheer mindnumbing-ness. Melantha had honestly given it her best, trying to keep up her act of enthusiasm but it was slipping with every passing minute. And now, after her lack of response to Pansy's girlish squeal of delight at 'tea party!' and subsequent slumping of shoulders, Pansy's face had immediately darkened.

"Why aren't you talking? You're supposed to be playing with me!" Melantha wisely left her retort in the back of her head where she would have pointed out that she had NEVER actually agreed to this. She had been as good as forced into this. Hastily, Melantha slapped a smile back onto her face and apologized politely, seeking desperately to placate her companion and spare her poor ears from more incessant whining. Cheerfully, she assumed her position as waitress and with mock manners, bowed deeply to the eerily smiling doll cradled in Pansy's arms.

"Would Kelly like more tea?" She almost couldn't believe those words were coming out of her mouth.

"No, Kelly would like biscuits. Get her biscuits!" Pansy's sweet voice changed drastically with the order into a high pitched screech that seemed to shatter Melantha's eardrums. The ebony haired child looked to the mansion, wondering if Pansy was serious about this. Was she expecting her to head back into the manor, disturb the adults or house elves, just to get a plate of biscuits for a doll with an imaginary stomach and then come all the way back out to wait on her? Melantha had never actually conjured food with magic and she wasn't entirely sure it was possible to do so but…

Pansy frowned at the deliberation, impatient with Melantha's lack of adherence to her demands. "Well, what are you doing standing there? I'm still waiting!" The other girl winced inwardly but still said nothing. She would not rise to the bait, she would not. Melantha hadn't any idea why Pansy was being especially nasty to her but she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. Therefore, with as much patience as she could muster, Melantha would not give the girl the satisfaction of knowing her rudeness was getting to her.

"Your biscuits, Miss Parkinson," Melantha made a great show of holding an imagined plate and placing it on the equally imagined table. As much as she wanted to seek refuge indoors with the adults, she knew her presence wouldn't be much appreciated.

"What is this?! What on earth are you talking about?!"

"Why, it is right there, Miss Parkinson. Right there on the table," Melantha replied in her most patronizing tone.

"There's nothing there! Get those biscuits! How can you be so lazy? Just go back into the house and get some!" Pansy screamed in childish rage. Melantha felt her own temper flicker to life and she longed to scream right back that she wasn't her maid and why on earth couldn't she do just that herself? Gritting her teeth, Melantha strode back from whence they'd come and headed for the kitchen. She knew better than to disturb Mrs. Malfoy.

Quietly, she knocked on the white doors that led into the wide space allotted to the ever important preparation of food. There was a silence. Uncertain, Melantha opened the door nonetheless, only to find herself met with the wide, wide eyed stares of the unusually stock-still house elves. They'd all halted abruptly in shock at the highly unaccustomed knocking of their kitchen doors. Nobody, not their masters and least of all the child of the greatest and most feared wizard of the age, would have been expected to show the basic respect mankind had for each other, to the house elves. It was blasphemous! Melantha realized after a pause, that it must have been greatly inappropriate to the elves, her treating them as equals, but she hadn't really been thinking. Manners had just automatically surfaced and she never really spent her time psyching herself to view the elves as scum and treat them as such.

"M-Miss R-Riddle? Is there being something we can help you with?" a squeaky voice finally sounded amidst the uncomfortable silence and disconcertingly big eyes that stared. It might have been funny that they were so worried that such basic courtesy would mean impending punishment or something nasty… but Melantha couldn't actually tell for herself.

"I'm looking for… Dobby, I think," Melantha answered to the general area softly, politely.

From the almost tableau like scene before her, a lone figure moved, disrupting the image as it stepped nervously towards her. Melantha then did what she felt was the only way to let them know she meant no harm. It wasn't a custom she was too used to but if it would put them at ease, then… the child smiled prettily at the elf that had stopped jumpily before her.

"I'm sorry, don't let me keep you from your work!" Melantha said loudly to the rest of the elves, sincerity breaking the spell on the house elves. Quickly, one by one, they returned back to scurrying about. The ebony haired girl returned her softened gaze to the one they called Dobby.

"I'm sorry Dobby, but Draco and his parents had told me to find you if I needed anything."

The house elf suddenly nodded his head enthusiastically, as if the very notion of bearing all the burdens anyone in the house had at whimsy was something to be proud of… well she supposed it was to a house elf.

"Yes, oh yes, Miss Riddle! Dobby is very, very helpful, indeed. Anything at all!"

"Well, if I could trouble you, may I have some biscuits to take outside with me?" Melantha knew she needn't be so polite but she somehow wanted to be. To someone who tended to be mistreated most of the time, if doing something so small would bring joy and brighten his life, Melantha couldn't see any fault in it. Besides, it hardly killed her to be polite and she didn't mind Dobby. He was nice.

By some unknown power, _all_ the elves had heard Melantha's request and given the kindness she'd bestowed upon them, they immediately set to arranging a whole neat assortment of biscuits and cookies upon a dainty wooden basket. There were shortbreads, chocolate chip cookies, macaroons, butter cookies, pinwheel cookies, you could simply name it and the basket would have contained it. A little overwhelmed, Melantha gave a lopsided grin before thanking the elves. As she turned to excuse herself, all the house elves had amassed in a crowd and had stopped to bid her farewell, only unlike when she'd entered, there were now equally large smiles to match their huge eyes.

--- ---

"What took you so long? I must have waited hours!" Pansy declared as haughtily as her childish voice allowed. Melantha wondered from whom she'd thought to imitate.

"I'm sorry, Miss Parkinson. I present… Miss Kelly's biscuits as requested," she replied civilly.

Satisfied with the astoundingly wide spread of biscuits to choose from, Pansy was content with toying around with Kelly, thankfully leaving Melantha in peace momentarily. The girl found herself inevitably drawn to the smallish figures darting about against the gloriously blue sky. Faintly, she made out the familiar shape of her brother lounging almost lazily on his broom, maneuvering it with great ease, much like the proverbial fish in the water, if you would. With one hand, Erebus made a sharp turn and dove after Draco, eliciting boyish shouts of excitement. Inwardly, she smiled at their antics, a little relief at seeing her brother having some sort of fun. This was the most loosened up she'd seen him since the first day they'd been introduced into the Malfoy household.

Having gotten hold of Draco and now passing on the turn to the blonde to find a target, Erebus simply hovered at his spot, mildly watching the Malfoy heir take after one of the two burly boys. Sensing a faint nudge at the back of her mind, she flitted over to squint at her twin. Subtly, he gave her a small wave and she returned it in kind, a warm joy suffusing over her from that simple gesture.

The moment was regrettably shattered when her attention was once more called upon by the little she-devil. Sighing to herself, Melantha turned around and faced Pansy with inconspicuously battle wary eyes.

Little did Melantha know of the trouble that was about to ensue.

"Here. Comb her hair and make her all pretty, Melantha," Pansy insisted, shoving Kelly unceremoniously into her hands. Startled but not showing it, the child took the doll and obliged with the grooming.

"You make a decent servant, Melantha. But I think you need to obey faster. Perhaps you could learn from those house elves. You'd fit right in with them!" Pansy giggled meanly, figuring herself highbrow and pleased with what she thought was an excellent piece of advice.

"Maybe Mister and Missus Malfoy would be kind enough to adopt you. I think our Lord was trying to do so already. I mean, he practically pushed you and your brother into the Malfoy family! Clearly he doesn't want you!" the girl rambled on, likely not even knowing the severity of her words. The ridiculous look of deep contemplation on the chubby face only irritated Melantha further. What was the girl playing at!

"Why else would he leave? I think it was an excuse to get you both out of his hair for a while," Pansy continued in what she thought was a wizened tone, blatantly marveling at her self-perceived profoundness and priding herself in her so-called perceptiveness. Melantha was stunned to absolute silence at the insolence of Parkinson. How could she so easily prattle on about what she didn't understand? How dare she make such insinuations! Melantha's hand twitched with the urge to hex the girl right there on the spot when she saw in burning fury, Pansy nod her head to herself in grave affirmation that it seemed mocking.

Pansy was so caught up in being snobbish and praising herself for having helped a '_lesser' _being like Melantha that she failed to notice how tight the ebony haired child's grip on the tiny hair brush had become. Melantha's knuckles had turned white and she was practically squeezing the nonexistent life out of the emancipated figure of the doll and miniature brush. Forgetting herself, Melantha vented her anger on her task.

That was the beginning of all hell breaking loose.

_-Pop-_

There seemed to be a very loud silence as both girls stared at Kelly, or rather, Kelly's now headless body. It was certainly a grotesque image- but one which would have the twins laughing at in the future – for where once the doll had been whole, the head was missing and was found in a new location. Kelly's _pretty_ head clung dangling from the tiny brush still gripped vice-like in Melantha's hand. It took a few seconds to register what had exactly happened.

The ebony haired girl hadn't realized the amount of strength she'd put into combing Kelly's hair and before she'd known it, she'd dislodged the strawberry blond head with a particularly vengeful tug.

What happened once realization (which had come a little slower) dawned upon Pansy was a complete blur. Vaguely, Melantha recalled being slammed to the ground as the other girl viciously launched herself at her. Pain blinded her for the most part as the back of her head hit the hard earth. She remembered shrill screams being emitted a little too close for comfort from the marginally larger girl who was on fours over her. Hands seemed everywhere and everything was a mess with Pansy scrabbling to find anything to assault Melantha with. How damage to a _toy_ which could easily be _fixed_ would ever have warranted the degree of physical aggression that was being displayed, Melantha would never know. It simply _eluded_ even a mind as keen as hers.

Pansy had first begun with slapping, then moved on to yanking gorgeous ebony locks forcefully. Melantha had barely managed to suppress a wince at that. With small fisted hands, Pansy had unrelentingly beaten at the slighter girl's face, shoulders, wherever she could get to. When there was still no reaction from Melantha, her fury surged even more, unhappy that she still hadn't broken the girl. Pansy looked every bit the crazed maniac as she searched around her for any object to continue her torturing with, dark hair clinging messily to her sweaty face and her dress rumpled beyond compare.

Melantha would have very much liked to escape at that point, but despite her valiant wiggling and squirming, it did no good at all. Her hands were pinned to her sides by Pansy's legs and it didn't help that she was lighter and lacking in strength as compared to her captor. She felt strangely cold, an unpleasant hollow sensation in her chest and all she could hear was the abnormally loud thumping of her heart. It wasn't something she wanted to experience again. Desperation clawed at her when she saw clutched in Pansy's stubby hands, a sizable stick. Why, oh why had that been conveniently close by on the ground, this particular patch of grass when all the other pretty green acres around them were completely scarce of such things? For crying out loud, what were the odds of there being this single branch here out of all the hundreds of meters this field possessed?

Depressingly, it looked to promise great pain.

Like a banshee sounding a skewed war cry, Pansy brought the 'weapon' down with renewed vigor, relishing the control she had in lording over another. When once pale skin that reddened with the aggression finally tore and little rivets of blood began to leak from multiple places, an almost euphoric joy surged through Pansy. Seeing the pain finally reflected on the normally emotionless mask brought smug satisfaction to her tainted heart.

Pansy was broken out of her reverie by approaching footfalls. Dark hair whipped around her as she paused in her tyranny to look at the newcomers. A malicious grin spread across her face instantly.

"Oh, Crabbe! Goyle! Help me teach her a lesson! She destroyed poor Kelly! Look!"

With the cogs spinning in their heads slowly, their interpretation in light of overwhelming evidence from Pansy's doll fell into place. There was a slight hesitation in the boys, uncertainty over what had really happened. As far as it seemed, it looked like this was very much one-sided. The quiet girl hadn't done anything to retaliate; there wasn't a single scratch on Pansy. But they'd known her far longer than they did the pretty girl and they feared the whining of the brunette… closing an eye to the doubts, Crabbe and Goyle settled for Pansy's account.

Without another word, they hurried over to Pansy's side and pinned Melantha down forcefully by the wrists. The ebony haired child had taken to fighting even harder at the sight of the two massive boys but their grip was bruising; it was no use, and it hurt even more to scream. The pressure on her thin wrists was getting too much and her body was numbing to the pain Pansy inflicted with her brutal _teachings_. For the first time in a very, very long time, Melantha found herself wanting to cry regardless of the presence of others.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to stop.

A minute passed, and curiously, she felt nothing.

Another minute passed and she felt a weight lifted; her attackers seemed to have removed themselves from her she couldn't be certain; her eyes were still closed.

And then she heard it. That gloriously familiar voice; that soft, commanding voice that flowed like a melody, entrancing, ensnaring.

"Get. Off. Her."

A very, very tense, pregnant pause.

"Now."

Slowly, she cracked open her eyes and found a shadow covering her. Erebus. The name, she had breathed like a prayer. There was nothing to be found in his face, not anger, not fury, not outrage, not concern. But the look in frigid, consuming blood-red eyes said more than anything ever could have. There was bloodlust, an insatiable thirst for revenge, a chilling desire to kill, being reflected as clear as day in them. Nobody dared to move.

It was then that Melantha noticed something strange. Where it had once been bright and sunny, the sky above her now was clouded, foreboding grey with rolling thunderclouds. She became abruptly aware of a crackling sound, an odd static in the air that seemed strongest about her twin. The bout of uncontrolled magic being displayed by Erebus was terrifying to the children who were unaccustomed to such extreme forms accidental magic was capable of. It was stifling to most, suffocating and uncomfortable, but Melantha basked in it, reassured by her brother's magik signature.

"I should do the same to you three. Perhaps twice over… for taking advantage of someone defenseless. What honor is there… in this?" Erebus asked, his voice dangerously low.

"She started it! She destroyed Kelly!" Draco, who had been standing petrified behind Erebus, thankful he was with him and not with the trio he usually hung around, stared at Pansy liked she'd grown three heads. The blonde was stunned by her foolish boldness and outright stupidity at speaking to an enraged Erebus. Was she so daft as to be ignorant of when to keep her mouth shut?

"It is a _doll. _It can be _repaired_. How can you think it fitting to beat up a _person_, something capable of _feeling pain_ just because of some silly _toy?" _Rage had seeped into the boy's words and the children held themselves stiffer than ever in fear. "It is ridiculously _overboard!" _Erebus shouted to the collective flinching of the rest.

"Do you know what overboard _means_, Parkinson? Does your immature, childish, limited intelligence let you _understand_ the word?" Pansy was significantly cowed, her defiance held at bay once again with the ire in glistening blood-red eyes. The look challenged her to talk back, but Pansy thought better of it- fortunately enough for her.

"Let me make this clear, to _all _of you," There was a stirring in the air around them. Powerful, strong gusts suddenly swirled around them, frightening the children as it sent fallen leaves and blades of grass dancing violently. The aura emanated from Erebus intensified tremendously and terrifying crimson eyes flashed - literally flashed - bright red as he spoke his warning, "Lay one finger on my sister, try it just _one more time_, and I swear you will be begging me to kill you."

It seemed out of place, the threat, coming from the lips of one so young. To speak of dying, killing, seemed unreal from a mere _child_. 'Perhaps the boy had taken the line from one of those cheesy stories', some might have speculated jokingly. But to the children who were there, seeing it first hand, they knew, somehow through the haziness of their childlike minds, they knew that it was no joke; the boy's tone could hardly be misconstrued as anything but threatening. Erebus had meant every word he'd said and it was not an imitation. It didn't seem normal for such grave notions to be able to be formed, to be thought of by a mere six-year-old… but Erebus was far from normal… and this certainly proved it.

Air seemed to fill their lungs once more as Erebus forced the calm back into himself. He knelt on one knee and gently assessed the damage inflicted on his twin. Melantha would have smiled at the well hidden worry in her brother's eyes if her face would have allowed it. As it were, she feared even talking would bring more pain.

"Children! Lord Erebus! Lady Melantha! It is about to storm. Hurry back in -" the female voice cut off into a very ladylike gasp as the owner came into view. Mrs Goyle's face screamed abject horror at the highly questionable scene before her. "Lady Melantha! What on earth happened! Goodness! Cissy? Cissy!"

With his back turned to the oncoming adults, Erebus sighed softly into his twin's hair, controlling the urge to roll his eyes. It was bad luck that he hadn't managed to help his sister before the _very_ thing he'd hoped to prevent just _had_ to happen. Curse it all. The last thing he had wanted was to create a huge, draggy commotion as was wont to happen when parents got involved.

"Oh my word. Melantha, darling, how did this… Oh, Lucius! We must take her inside at once!"

Draco watched his father's expression darken enough to mirror the impending storm clouds overhead.

"Yes, my dear. Bring our _lord's_ daughter in immediately. Leave the rest to me, hmm?" The man's voice was soft and deadly. Draco knew his father only ever got like this when he was terribly, terribly mad. The other men took their cue to follow their wives back in after the head of the Malfoy family shot them a discrete look.

Gingerly, the women scooped the slight girl into their arms and with maternal instincts on overdrive, they fussed over the poor child the whole way back into the mansion. Erebus would have requested to follow his sister and escape the tedious interrogating and lecturing that was sure to come - something he was certain Lucius would have ultimately allowed for none but him, but there was something the ebony haired boy had to do first. It would likely ensure little trouble in the future from these children and winning their favor could prove to be useful in the future. Besides, it was all part of the plan now… the plan he'd come up with in the last five minutes.

"Would any of you care to explain… what happened?"

Lucius looked every bit like anger personified; nobody dared to open their mouths.

"Draco?" It wasn't so much encouraging as it was a dare to contradict him. Hesitantly, Erebus watched the miniature blonde gulp almost audibly. Lucius had the natural ability to turn a person into an absolute mess of babbling, jittery goo and it worked on both adults and children alike. Fidgeting something fierce and all semblance of calm flying out the window, Draco opened his mouth, attempting to utter something when Erebus tactfully intervened.

"Sir, it wasn't any fault of theirs. Melantha and I had just been too reckless."

Lucius would have to have been blind to not notice the unbecomingly obvious looks of outright shock and disbelief upon the faces of all the other children. The man privately raised an eyebrow at the multiple jaws that hung open unflatteringly.

"Oh?" Clearly, the platinum blonde didn't buy a word that Erebus had just said, but for the boy's sake, he would humor him. If he knew these children at all, it would not be surprising if bullying had been the cause of Melantha's sorry state. What did puzzle him was how they would dare, given the knowledge of who her father was. Knowing Erebus from the time he was an infant and watching him grow up, Lucius knew that it wasn't too much in his nature to be forgiving. Not to mention, given how strongly the boy felt for his sister, such a matter would not be so easily brushed off. No, why the ebony-haired child was trying to take the blame for the bullies was definitely intriguing.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy. I'd taken Melantha upon the broomstick at her insistence. It got a little boring with the speed limitation and it was going even slower with an added passenger so I lifted the spell. I guess I wasn't as good a flyer as I thought I was. Isn't that right, Draco? Pansy?" The flicker in crimson eyes urged the two to go along with it. Thankfully they'd caught on promptly and nodded their heads fervently.

Lucius noted with wry amusement that there were many flaws with the lie but of which wouldn't have been noticed had he not been checking on them periodically from the window. He had not seen the boy's twin in the air, not once during the entire time and it wasn't logical that Melantha suffer so many injuries while her brother was unscathed. In fact, he was pretty certain it was a row over something to do with the broken doll he'd seen on his way over. But Lucius would not have actually doubted Erebus' claim on having tempered with the limiter; he knew the boy was capable of power unthinkable of a six-year-old.

If anything, however, Lucius had to give the boy due credit for being able to keep a completely straight, poker face throughout his lying. There was no fluctuation in voice, no noticeable hesitancy; nothing out of line in what one would try to spot whilst lie-detecting.

"…Lord Erebus, I do hope you will manage yourself better in the future. It is not… _prudent_ of you to act so impulsively. There are such limiters for a _reason_," Lucius admonished mildly, giving the boy a pointed look. Playing his part of an ashamed little boy perfectly, Erebus lowered his head, avoiding eye contact with the blonde. It would not do for others to see his smirk.

"Now then, back you all go into the mansion. Clean up properly and I expect to see you all presentable in time for dinner. I assume I can leave you all to settle this on your own _without_ any mishaps?"

Draco stared dumbstruck at his father's retreating figure. He hadn't expected the man to let this go so easily. Although, perhaps Erebus' presence had something to do with it…

Nobody knew what to say to the scary ebony-haired boy. One moment he seemed ready to kill them all and the next, he was saving them, taking the blame that was entirely not his to take. It was confusing to say the least, but somehow, it stirred an emotion in the four children. A sort of camaraderie.

"Let's go."

They turned to begin their way back but not before each of them had taken a turn to throw a glance over their shoulders at Erebus. There were no words exchanged between them, no grudging apologies, no reluctant thanks; all the children had been given was a small, amused lopsided grin.

And just like that, Erebus knew he'd won them over.

It was to be the beginning of an inseparable gang.

* * *

**A/N:** Well that's that. I hope you liked it. Lemme know! As per, reviews are greatly appreciated. Till next time, then! cheers.

**UPDATE: wheee... I finally got around to editing this chapter. Erebus' little _speech _had been bothering me for a long time now. I doubt I've made much of a change though... It does seem a little less... unbelievable now though. ah well...**


	5. You're alright

**A/N: **Hello one and all.. it's a been a while and so i apologize. I was having a little trouble yet again with figuring out how to get this chapter out. I think i'll be seeing more of this in the future... It's just that while it's moving a little slowly, i think these chapters are rather necessary. I'm really, really looking forward to writing about them in school. But judging by how it's going, i'd say this is going to be rather epic. Oh well, i hope you'll stick around to read it.

To my reviewers: thank you so, so much for your comments. Their so very encouraging. just opening to my inbox and seeing them there makes my day. It sounds a little sad, doesn't it. haha. Little pleasures in life, i say! I've been asked about pairings in this story and while i won't tell you all outright for i'm not entirely certain just yet (debating the couples...), there WILL be romance. there WILL be pairings. It'll come. I promise.

Enough for now, on with the chapter!

* * *

They're on our side now, Erebus said to his sister as he sat by her bed. Melantha wasn't looking at him, she didn't want to. The fact that her attackers weren't given due punishment was making her sullen. It was unfair! No, for neither consulting her nor caring for her feelings, Melantha was going to choose the scenery beyond the window over her brother.

"They may be useful to have in the future, Mela. You know that."

Erebus felt his eye twitch at the silence.

"Honestly, sister, you're being unreasonable. Think your actions through! You're letting emotions cloud your rationality, so stop this."

Melantha finally turned but only to give her twin a sharp, scathing look. She returned to staring through the opened window. Erebus frowned at the behavior but softened his gaze nonetheless as he reached a hand out to his sister and fingered the soft fabric of the sleeve's hemming.

"… Mela, talk to me."

The boy waited patiently and was rewarded with the slumping of his twin's shoulders – just as he had anticipated. There was a faint pout on Melantha's face when she faced him which Erebus couldn't help but smile at.

"How had you known?"

"Known? Known to help you back then?"

"Yes."

"I'd heard your calling, of course." Erebus replied matter-of-factly; it was such an obvious question that warranted just such an obvious answer, surely. But Melantha's puzzled expression made him consider otherwise.

"…I hadn't called you."

Raising an eyebrow, Erebus leaned forward, entirely serious. "You had been, Mela. Over and over you were calling my name. When you'd dropped to a whimper… you have no idea how it hurt."

The girl colored a little at her twin's confession of his feelings. Such things were rarely spoken of. She mused over what Erebus had said and presumed it was highly possible that she'd done it subconsciously. The mind link they shared had long been second nature to them, after all.

"Thank you," Melantha whispered under her breath. Her brother's eyes widened a fraction; he hadn't thought to hear that from the girl. There had always been a mutual understanding between them and no words had been necessary; they just knew what the other would mean to say and so left it as that. So this - this had caught him off guard and he felt abruptly enveloped by a strange warmth. Not that it was uncomfortable or unpleasant; it was just foreign. Unsure of how to react, Erebus simply squeezed his sister's hand reassuringly.

"Mela… I know you're upset about them not paying for their actions but you do see, don't you…?" the boy murmured.

The silence resumed, much to Erebus' irritation. The cold tension in the air seemed to return and he was loathed to imagine he was about to be ignored again. Erebus had been about to give an exasperated apology when he was interrupted by the gentler voice.

"At least you yelled at them…"

The boy's face was of startled disbelief; she'd thrown him completely off. Again.

Melantha merely smiled in earnest as her brother began to laugh.

--- ---

Night had fallen, the black blanket covering the world in its glorious darkness as the stars shone their magnificent light, sparkling amidst the bleakness and showering late sleepers with hope. A brief consolation, if you will, for the unfortunate souls who were bereft their rest.

Draco, was amongst them tonight. Yet again. The blonde found himself rudely awoken as was wont these past few weeks. He considered himself lucky if he managed to sleep through the night uninterrupted two days in a row. Most times, the blonde child would get mildly annoyed through the fog of his sleep deprived state and then quell it as he remembered who he was getting angry at. After the first time he'd been introduced to this nightmare problem Melantha seemed to be plagued by, Draco had never bothered to look at the twins should he be awoken. Rather, he would pretend it wasn't even happening; he would squeeze his eyes shut, try to drone out the sobbing and murmuring and force himself to resume his sleep. As impersonal as it was, he couldn't be bothered to get involved.

That had been his mentality up till the incident with Pansy and the others.

Now, however, though he continued to appear ignorant to the sufferings of Melantha, it was more of him not wishing to intrude. He knew what it was like to have nightmares, he knew how terrible it felt and how he too had always needed someone to calm him down. More importantly, he somehow never wished for just anyone to know of his nightmares - to know when he suffered from them. It wasn't something he could quite explain but incidents with nightmares tended to feel very personal.

If he had such sentiments towards this matter, he could only extend the same courtesy of privacy to others... even if he wasn't sure they shared the same view as he. But all things considered, what with the nature of the twins, it seemed very likely that they did. After all, they viewed privacy even more highly than he did.

What was different with this night in particular, he didn't know. All he did know was that by some inexplicable impulsiveness, Draco next found himself propped up on an elbow, looking at the twins. His brows furrowed just as it had all those nights ago.

Draco watched the other boy who sat cross-legged on his sister's bed, the girl curled into a ball and cradled in his lap. By now, Melantha had been successfully wrenched away from the dream and was into the crying phase. Erebus, as per, had his arms wrapped tightly, reassuringly, around his twin as he whispered soothingly into the girl's ear. Draco watched with concealed fascination and an unfamiliar tugging in his chest. Perhaps he was jealous, perhaps he was envious… Much to his astonishment, Draco found himself yearning to be on the receiving end of such affection. Not from Erebus in particular, no. His parents did dote on him, he knew, but there was something different about this. Something he felt like he was sorely missing out on. Maybe it could only exist between siblings…

Erebus rocked to and fro, the repeated motion lulling his sister to sleep as it always did. It had been a little quirk he'd picked up on long ago; Melantha could fall asleep anywhere as long as there was a constant motion to help her. It had to do with mirroring the conditions when one was still a fetus or something similar, Erebus couldn't remember exactly; he'd just brought it up to his father that one time years ago.

He carried on for a while until he began to hear the soft, regular breathing of his twin. Melantha'd finally fallen asleep again.

"Is she… is she okay?"

Erebus turned his head slowly towards the child on his right. He was admittedly a little surprised to hear the boy speak. From the very first night, Erebus had been aware that Draco had been awake. Initially, he'd been on guard, prepared to be hostile should the boy dare to be mean about his sister's problem with sleep. He'd been suspicious when he was met with no comment. Following times, Erebus was still aware that Draco was awoken every time his sister encountered a bad bout of dreaming and often, he felt himself apologetic to the boy for having always to interrupt his sleep. It was rare for another six-year-old to be understanding, or seem understanding, enough to keep his opinions to himself in such a circumstance; such sensitivity to others was hard to find in a young child. Erebus had increasingly felt his respect for the blonde boy swell.

But this question, the sincerity in the words, had just brought it to a whole new level. Erebus smiled a little and inclined his head at the care.

"You know, you're really quite alright Draco."

And so, unbeknownst to Draco, he had just won a place in Erebus' good graces and this wasn't something to be taken lightly. Although it seems trivial and almost laughable to note it with so serious a light, the fact was that the ebony haired child's respect wasn't easily earned and believe it or not, it was a valuable thing. The blonde just hadn't known all this yet.

---

There were about two people… and a snake, that knew of the rare ability the twins had inherited from their father. Lord Voldemort, otherwise known as The Dark Lord, had pleasantly noticed when the twins had seemed to pay rapid, unusual attention unseen of in infants as he'd spoken to his familiar in the nursery; and then there was Lucius Malfoy, who had found out one day when he'd stumbled upon a strange hissing from the Great Chamber, only to discover the two two-year-olds making odd, truncated and jerky hisses to Nagini. Pretty much akin to an infant's first words, his lord had explained later on.

Nonetheless, their speaking Parseltongue had very much been a well kept secret. There really wasn't any dire need, in Lord Voldemort's opinion, for the world to know about their ability. It could simply reveal itself in time, if necessary; the longer it took the better, actually. Being a Parselmouth had its advantages, especially when none were aware of it. Who'd be the wiser that a sudden snake attack was actually planned?

Young Draco Malfoy, however, was soon to join the ranks and be the fourth to learn of this well kept secret. And believe me, for once, it had been part of nobody's plan.

It was to be a sunny autumn afternoon, when this little discovery was to take place.

"How… How much longer do you think?"

The ebony haired child raised his head to look at the blonde from where he sat under the shade of an ancient looking oak tree.

"Till what?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders out of habit. "Till you leave, I suppose." The blonde sounded decidedly forlorn; Erebus couldn't help but smirk in amusement. So the child would seemingly miss their company, hm? This was certainly a first for the twins, most times their hosts would be ecstatic and relieved to be rid of them; nobody cared for the discomfort the twins inherently managed to effect. Yes, for someone to enjoy their presence was definitely a first.

"Perhaps a couple of days? Perhaps a week? I cannot say for certain… father, has yet to send word," Erebus replied nonchalantly.

"Will you come back?" Draco asked eagerly whilst trying to uphold the Malfoy indifference. Had Lucius taught the boy that such attachment might seem undesirably weak? Erebus supposed the man did have a point. His own father did seem to preach that too.

"Would you like us to?" the girl's voice suddenly piped up, just a little louder than her usual whisper. Draco had almost forgotten her presence; Melantha'd chosen a seat that was largely shielded off by the enormous girth of the trunk and keeping so quiet, it wasn't much of a wonder that the blonde had gradually forgotten.

Draco fidgeted under the calculating gaze of crimson eyes as Erebus looked at him from under his eyelashes. Swallowing thickly, he muttered just loud enough to be heard in the silence of the forest.

"I suppose…"

Satisfied, Erebus reclined once more and resumed his small smirk.

"Well then, I'm sure it can easily be arranged. Father wouldn't mind, I'm rather sure."

Just like that, it was as if a switch had been flicked and a stunning, innocent smile lit up the blond boy's face. Erebus was sure his eyes had widened against his will and felt his eyebrows crease a little in befuddlement. His brain couldn't comprehend such an expression; such… joy. What on earth could have caused it? Why would people show such things openly? Surely not a small, insignificant thing as agreeing to his request…

Erebus had of course felt happy, even if it was quite rare; he was happy when he was with his twin, he was happy when he was with Father. But he wasn't sure he could say he was ever so greatly elated to warrant such a smile. It was truly puzzling, this was.

It must have been rather contagious, it seemed, for when the boy turned to see his sister's reaction, he was startled to see a small smile resting prettily on her lips unmistakably in answer to the blonde's.

A faint pink slowly tainted otherwise pale cheeks and Draco hastily spun on his heel, embarrassed for having blushed in front of the only other person, apart from his father, that he wanted to impress. Mumbling some incoherent excuse, Erebus watched the boy shuffle away, desperately trying to salvage his pride.

Melantha smiled even more widely as she heard her brother chuckle. She, unlike her twin, was not new to the concept of smiles. She knew she wasn't as detached from emotions as her brother was, and she also knew that this was a problem of hers. It troubled Father and she really didn't like to disappointment him; so she'd taken to working harder to be like Erebus. But sometimes, Melantha couldn't really see a downside to being able to feel more than her brother.

It began softly, the slow humming of a melancholy tune coming from his sister. She did it all the time and Erebus had claimed it as one of few things he could say he loved. Her voice was his light, his savior at times, it cleared his mind, and it soothed his soul. Heavy words for a six-year-old no doubt, but Erebus would have readily hit anyone who dared mock him for it. Nobody understood how much faster he had had to grow up with the Dark Lord as his father, nobody understood how much pressure his small shoulders bore. But as he often told himself, _"It's not for them to understand."_

If, in the event someone did know, he was sure they'd expect him to rebel, to cave in, to resist it; loathe his father for placing such undue stress on one so young. But he didn't resent his father, he could never hate his father; not even for having him grow up faster than was normal. His adoration, his love for his father overrode such thoughts; he felt honored the man believed him capable of these duties, capable of handling he wished to teach him in order to face the cruel reality.

No, there was nothing that could ever turn him against Father, Erebus was fiercely certain about that.

Blood red eyes closed as he let the melody seep into his body, take hold of his core. He found peace, as he always did, in his sister's sweet voice and Erebus lost himself in it. For the first time in a long, long time, the boy felt free. Troubling thoughts of Melantha's nightmares, fear for his father's safety (however much the Dark Lord would scoff it for being unnecessary), his own bottled emotions… everything blessedly faded away into nothing.

But as it was always was with good things, it was short-bloody-lived.

The lulling voice stopped abruptly and Erebus found irritation slowly bubbling inside him. It startled him to think that he'd almost lost control and snapped at his sister, though thankfully, she'd spoken first, giving him enough time to collect himself. Just barely, mind you.

"Erebus. I think Draco's looking very odd. Don't you? Rather stiff…"

Lazily, the ebony haired child centered his attention on the blonde boy some distance away from their tree. He gave a soft sigh.

"Draco? Is everything alright? Melantha thinks you're looking rather stiff." At another time, Erebus would never have thought to include the last sentence, it wouldn't have been proper, much less polite when spoke in the tone the boy had used. But his rest had been rudely interrupted and he was strangely agitated, so propriety be damned, the child figured fiercely.

"Err… N-No. There's something moving in the grass and all I saw was some zigzagged pattern." The blonde's voice quivered despite valiant efforts to keep calm, and there was a terribly palpable fear in it to boot.

Instantly, Melantha had risen to her knees, her hand gently gripping her twin's shoulder.

"Erebus… Nagini warned us of Adders," she said worriedly. The boy arched an eyebrow at the thinly veiled concern; he hoped only he was privy to this weakness.

Nonetheless, the boy gave a sharp nod and called out reassuringly.

"Draco, don't move. Just give us a moment."

Careful of those that sought camouflage in the relatively tall grass, the twins hurried over to the frightened child.

"While I'm thankful you're here, father is going to KILL me when he finds out you're both in danger now too!" Draco cried in despair as the realization sunk in. The twins shared a look but did nothing to show the mirth they were feeling. Such a concern had never once crossed their minds. There was simply no need, but the Malfoy heir didn't know that.

Draco jumped involuntarily when a loud hissing broke the silence. A soft whimper escaped his throat but Melantha stilled him with a warm hand. He couldn't believe how calm she was given the situation. Weren't girls supposed to be frightened of these sort of things too? It was funny that the blonde still entertained the worry of now being known to be less brave than a _girl_, even if it was the eccentric Melantha. In fact, she wasn't just calm, she looked determined and that was downright strange. The look of concentration in the little frown between her brows and her intense stare at her brother's back was perplexing. And Erebus… Erebus… Draco couldn't believe his ears. Having thoughts squashing his fear, it finally dawned on him that the hissing wasn't normal. It was a strange concoction of short and long drawn hisses that he never heard from a snake. For the life of him, Draco's brain wasn't registering what on earth was happening.

Out of the grass, a thick grayish snake about half a meter long arose to seemingly stare at the trio. It let out a hiss that sounded particularly irked to Draco. The Adder slunk back to the ground, visibly poised to strike. The blonde watched with rapid fascination as Erebus' face remained emotionless as it tended to often times and from the strange hisses coming from him, he seemed decidedly more intimidating than normal.

_Humans are not yours to take_

The Adder tensed even further. _Heir of Salazar, this little bit dared stomp on my taillllssss_

_It was not deliberate, Adder. Leave him be._

…_You may be the Heir, but you are only a nibblet like that other onessss. Don't tell me what to do._

Erebus had never been spoken so rudely to before, much less by a snake so low in the hierarchy. He felt his magic flare within him and his pupils dilating. The Adder watched, stunned, as slits just like its own began to form in the blood-red eyes. Its instincts were screaming for it to back off; the vibes the snake was getting were akin to those of higher reptiles. Impossible.

_I'm going to ask just one more time… PLEASE, let this slide. Get on with your hunt._ Erebus was careful to put emphasis on the 'please', let it carry his double meaning for the Adder to take a hint and flee while he still asked nicely.

Grudgingly, for Erebus just knew it was so, the lesser snake lowered its head and returned to its shelter beneath the tallish grass.

Time seemed to come to a standstill, and the ebony haired boy gave a long suffering sigh inwardly.

"What… the bloody hell… did you just do?" The twins closed their eyes, the movement utterly in sync that it bewildered the blonde even further.

"Draco…" Melantha began a little unsurely.

Erebus saved her, cutting her off and taking over the reins, "Draco, I understand it's unnerving, it's _freakish_," the boy twitched at the distasteful word, "to a lot of people but that's why it's actually a secret." The ebony haired child explained though withholding the larger truth. The Riddles really couldn't have cared less that this gift frightened anyone.

The blonde boy continued to stare, mouth uncouthly agape. Melantha deigned to wiggle her little fingers in front of the boy, calling his attention.

"That. Is. So - "

The twins winced subtly, awaiting the rejection they'd long prepared themselves for.

"BRILLIANT!"

If the twins had whipped their heads around any faster, Draco was certain it'd snap off. What was wrong with his response anyway? It really was a ridiculously amazing ability! If memory served, it shouldn't have come as such a surprise after all, since Father had in educating him of the Dark Lord, mentioned the unique power bestowed to the descendents of the Great Salazar Slytherin. Parselmouth. Draco remembered now, that was what Erebus was.

The twins were in all honesty, taken aback at their companion's unexpected reaction. Nobody had ever thought it cool or taken it so lightly. Well, Lucius had, they supposed, but that was because he'd already known Father had had it too. Other Death Eaters would probably not be averse to the idea either but the others… outsiders… the twins were well aware of the terribly negative impressions they have of Parselmouths. Those capable of Parseltongue were instantly linked to Salazar Slytherin and anyone with half a brain would understand the implications when they drew further connections to the fact that the only other wizard in the world known to have the great warlock's unique gift was the Dark Lord. They'd assume that the twins were possibly the children of Lord Voldemort! They wouldn't have been wrong, of course, but the Light wasn't supposed to know of this. Not just yet, anyway.

Recovering first, Erebus eyed the blonde suspiciously.

"You're not… repulsed?"

"No? Why should I be? Oh, can Melantha do the same? You know… being twins and all," the boy asked in earnest.

The female of their little trio nodded her head. A perceptible sparkle of admiration shone in grey eyes. For the life of Erebus, he didn't and couldn't really be bothered to understand the blonde's abnormal fascination of the gift. With a shrug, the ebony haired boy just thought him peculiar.

---

"Father! Father! You won't believe it!"

Lucius arched a perfect brow at his son who was at the moment hurtling himself towards the man. Honestly, he thought he'd taught the boy to control himself.

"Draco, slow down," he admonished lightly. The anxious boy came to a messy halt just before the bench Lucius had been lounging on in the patio. Habitually, he pushed back the ruffled blonde hair that had broken out of its gelled constraints whilst managing to somehow decipher what his little boy was rattling on about at the speed of light. It had taken a lot of practice- this, Lucius would have sworn.

Of the whole prattling, Lucius caught one word that made his grey eyes widen. Parseltongue.

"Draco, stop for a moment, please. Did you just say Parseltongue?"

The six-year-old nodded his head fervently. "The twins can speak Parseltongue, father! Isn't that amazing?"

Lucius blinked, a million questions racing through his mind. "Yes, yes, it is an amazing gift, Draco."

The blonde had asked the twins if he could share this with just his family and they couldn't really see the harm in that. Lucius DID already know, so… Erebus had answered with a shrug. In the next instant, the little blonde had blitzed back to the mansion.

The head of Malfoy manor looked past his hyped son and spotted the children of his master sauntering calmly over to him. He shot them a puzzled look, one that clearly asked how his son had discovered the well kept secret.

"There was an Adder in the woods, Mr. Malfoy," Melantha explained. The older man immediately understood the pain the snake could have caused. It was poisonous and while it wouldn't have killed an adult, who knew what it could have done to a child.

"Thank you for protecting him," Lucius said gravely. Draco looked from his father to the twins. Something about the tone made him feel like he was missing something.

"Did you already know, father?" the boy asked, sounding a little disappointed.

The twins watched from a distance as the man explained to his son that yes, he had known for a long time, and that no, he couldn't have told anyone because it was agreed with their master that it was to remain a secret.

Erebus smirked at his sister. Draco certainly wasn't as easily hated as most others, the twins acknowledged that pleasantly. Melantha gazed at her brother from behind her long lashes, small fingers curling around his mildly larger ones.

"I like him. Don't you?"

The boy looked back at the animated blonde and his father. Erebus chuckled softly.

"Yes. I suppose I do."

* * *

**A/N: **Right. there you have it then. I hope you enjoyed this. Pardon the errors in language. I didn't read it once through. Too eager to upload this. Hah. Fear not, i'll edit in due time. Till next time!


	6. Return

**A/N: ** Hello once again. I know. Pretty fast, huh. Almost a personal record, i'd wager. The chapter was just slightly easier to write than i'd expected. and a much better thing to do than cram for like the BIGGEST, MOST IMPORTANT and likely the FINAL chinese examination i'd ever have to in my entire life. like. Ever. EVER. Anyway, that'd be on tuesday but who's counting down? =3 So i present thee with chapter 6.

**important notice﻿**: Okay, i've given this some thought and i'm really not going to tell any of you the confirmed pairings that this story will encompass. I think it'd be better that way. I do, however, feel it would be prudent to **warn **you, dear reader, that it will almost definitely not contain ONLY hetero pairings. So, i've given you the heads up. I really don't think it's a disgusting thing, nor something to be shunned. Really. So, look, this is personal opinion, i get that it's a terribly sensitive issue and it seems everybody out there has something to say about it so... yea. Anyway, i respect your decision should you drop the story. No hard feelings. Peace. I ain't forcing you to carry on. but here comes the SECOND note. -ahem-. The relationships are almost 100% safe for reading. I can't and won't or rather...I wish to spare you from reading any pathetic ventures of mine into the (fictional!) sexual world. Aye? ( cause i'm terribly at it) Besides, given the nature of this story, there isn't time, and there won't really be anywhere wholly appropriate for that sort of action anyway. (i think) So actually, ANYBODY could read this. just, read the bits you don't really support with a pinch of salt i suppose (or something similar)... But as i said, i'm striving for subtlety here. And more importantly, the fact that even the smallest things can mean so much more than they let on. It's not cliched, cheesy, overly fuzzy things that make a romance story. I prefer subtle ones that once you've read, leaves you squealing like a lunatic INSIDE, or leaves you winded and thinking 'Hooooooly crap... that was frigging powerful'

The only reason that i'm increasing the rating is the fact that there may be same gender sentiments/pairings... blah. okay? I do, hope you'll carry on though.

* * *

It was early November, some three and a half weeks since Lord Voldemort's children had arrived in the Malfoy manor, and the twins had grown very much comfortable with the place. They enjoyed the nature, they liked the freedom, and they were pleased to have found a new, bearable companion. But in spite of all this, though neither of them would say it, they were sorely missing home; they wanted their father back.

As if hearing their unvoiced prayer, a great, brown eagle owl was seen swooping towards the manor that day. From his study, Lucius watched the magnificent creature expand its wings to slow to a glide as it gracefully flew through the window he'd opened. Such owls were a rarity in the country and usually only belonged to the more prominent families of the wizarding world; they were difficult to tame and even more expensive to procure. Along the edge of one of its raised tufts was a hole, punctured by a fox whilst the bird was on a hunt. Judging by the mark, Lucius was pretty confident he knew who its master was.

"Heindrich?"

The mighty eagle owl gave an appreciative hoot before regally extending a leg to which a piece of parchment (that had surely seen better days) was attached. The platinum blonde man absently patted the messenger shortly before it took flight once more. Lucius hastily unfurled the letter - it was a notice, the first word he'd gotten from the Dark Lord in all these weeks. The missive was short and to the point and while there really wasn't much wrong with that, the hurried scrawl that was completely uncharacteristic of the usual elegant script of his master did worry him.

Surely there was nothing amiss. It must simply be an overactive imagination, irrational paranoia at best. He was just jumping to conclusions. Yes, that must be it. Lucius sought comfort from this thinking, trying to quell the initial uneasiness. Really, now, what was the point in worrying over something you didn't fully know?

But even so, why Lucius couldn't stop the discomforting feeling weighing down in his chest, he couldn't explain.

Taking a deep breath, the Malfoy left the letter on his desk, making his way to find the children. The piece of parchment was thus laid out, alone to the chilly winds of the changing autumn, privy to the eyes of light that filtered through the open windows.

_Await my return. The 10__th__. I will call. _

---

"How about going to the lake?" Draco asked in a lazy drawl, being polite more than anything.

The three children were lying about, sprawled on the grass atop the hill. The boy didn't really want to move, but he didn't want to seem selfish or like a poor host either.

"The alternative?" Erebus inquired, his voice equally drawn out.

"We could stay here and vegetate."

"That sounds like a fabulous idea," Melantha voiced empathetically, instantly pouncing

on those words.

"I second that," Erebus chimed in with a languid whirl of his hand.

"Right, then."

A comfortable silence once again fell, leaving the children to simply enjoy the company of each other.

It was… more foreign than strange for the twins to wrap their minds around the term: friend. It wasn't that they disliked Draco, nor was it that they didn't want to call him so. The reason was just that they had never actually had a cause to use it, never had the necessity to think of it. Lately, however, the Riddle twins were beginning to come to the understanding of what a 'friend' would mean by their standards.

It would not be used freely, absolutely not, rather, to be called a friend, one would have to actually deserve it, one would have to be deemed worthy of their friendship. The twins did not get close or attached to just anyone. To name a few, a friend would have to first and foremost be able to respect and accept that they were different from other children, be able to give the twins the distance they sometimes needed. A friend would have to be loyal, bold and honest. A friend would have to be mature enough to control themselves; giving in to childish tendencies all the bloody time was a sure fire way to receive nothing but scorn. It wasn't really a fault of the child as it was a preference of the twins.

Draco… well, Draco fit the bill. Mostly. He was properly brought up, well-mannered and well-behaved as was expected of a Malfoy and unlike most others, he was sensitive enough to know how to act around the emotions' of the twins; he was able to understand the twins well enough and while he may still waver a little, unsure of whether he was to be formal or informal with them, there was a more important point to the boy – he was nice to Melantha. That, to Erebus, was uncommon; most boys their age took to girls as if they were diseased beasts. So this odd maturity was more than welcomed. It was a bonus that Draco loved the twins' ability to speak Parseltongue. The boy broke the norms when it came to discovering a Parselmouth.

He was different and that made him similar.

The twins wondered if Draco would think them as his friends too.

"Erebus. Melantha. There you two are," the familiar baritone called out, breaking the silence. "The Dark Lord has sent a letter."

Immediately, the twins bolted upright like a wound up spring toy. Draco followed a little slower, twisting his body to see his father. The siblings waited patiently for the man to continue.

"He says to expect his return in four days," Lucius announced with a small smile. He thought the children would have been elated at the news, and would have shown it but their faces remained impassive. There was no trace of emotion, not a single change to indicate their response to his words.

"Thank you, Lucius. It's wonderful to hear that," Erebus finally replied courteously. The blonde had his reservations but assumed that the twins still stuck to their code of never opening up in public. Not even to those who could claim to be relatively close to them.

Make no mistake, under normal circumstances, the twins would have expressed their delight at seeing their father again, joy overcoming their defensive walls. But Lucius was holding something back from them and they knew it. There was something, a concern or whatever, that their father's right hand man was keeping from them and that didn't sit well with the twins. This was only made more pronounced by the smile Lucius had thought to give them. It was very well done, almost indiscernible, but Erebus knew as well as Melantha did, that there was a minor twitch to the human facial muscles that could distinguish a forced expression and an entirely sincere one. The blonde's expression had been too taut. It had been deliberate.

Melantha accented the movement as she turned her head to face her brother though crimson eyes still focused on the earth.

_Shall we ask what he keeps from us?_

Imperceptibly, Erebus arched an eyebrow but a fraction.

_No. Not yet._

As the lack of words being spoken dragged on, Lucius took it as his cue to leave. The twins watched his figure shrink in the distance until it disappeared back into the manor. Though sorely tempted to push the matter, Erebus was firm in his decision. There was no need to force anything out of the man just yet. He trusted in Father, he believed he could take care of himself. Lord Voldemort must be fine.

---

Nightmares are dreadful things. They reflect the worst that our heart renders, conjuring with stunning reality, the fears infesting the hollows of our bodies. They are like shadows, they are like formless hunters that hound us to the end of time; they are deceivers, luring even the most steeled of men into their forbidden prison of sweet promises and wanton caresses. Though sometimes, they are the most frightening of presence, ensconcing what many dare never to face….

The real you.

---

Lucius shot up from the pillow he'd laid on a scant moment ago. He felt the similar stirring from his wife beside him. The screaming must have awoken the whole mansion!

"Lucius…?" Narcissa began groggily. He glanced down to meet her worried face with a sharp nod. Throwing off his portion of the covers, Lucius whipped out his wand from its usual place beneath the pillow just as a loud pounding came from the bedroom door.

"Draco, enter."

Sure enough, the identical platinum blond head poked into the room, panic marring his usually (well, passably, in any case) collected mask.

"Father, Mother, hurry!"

Lucius darted after his son, his longer strides soon overtaking the boy. At the apparent sobbing coming from the children's room, he broke into a run. As he slammed open the door, he quickly took in the mess before him. The boys' beds had their sheets crumpled and strewn haphazardly; Erebus was over on his sister's bed, desperately trying to wake the poor girl. Melantha was whimpering, struggling and writhing as she fought off what no one but she alone could see; her nightgown had been torn at the shoulder presumably by her aggression and much to Lucius' distraught, there were bloodstains on the bed-sheets and a suspiciously dark patch spreading around the middle of her gown.

In one motion, he swept the child into his arms and hugged her tightly, suppressing her by sheer force. Narcissa, who had been close behind, gently caressed the girl, whispering sweet nothings soothingly. Gingerly, Lucius shook the child, calling her name, beseeching for her to wake up.

Draco watched from the doorway, somewhat terrified. With a shaky breath, he edged towards Erebus. The other boy was strangely blank. A sudden ragged gasp caught their attention before Draco could wonder any further.

"Good girl… that's it… A nightmare, that's all. That's all," Narcissa cooed comfortingly to the child clinging frantically to her husband. Having regained his composure, Lucius carefully kept his hold on Melantha while he fumbled with his wand. Draco couldn't hear the words but he knew his father was muttering a spell and the ensuring dim glow confirmed it. With the wounds taken care of, the man went on to tenderly rock the girl who was now only hiccoughing for air.

Something about the way his father embraced Melantha and the care so blatantly shown, triggered an odd pang deep in Draco. It'd been years since his father had held him so, but he knew the girl really needed it. He had never gotten it so bad with nightmares after all.

"Leave her with me, Lucius. Talk to the boys." Narcissa said softly. She knew it was bugging him terribly. He offered a small, grateful smile before handing the dozing girl over to his wife. There were times, like these, that Lucius praised the day he had married a woman like Narcissa. For many years they had been together now, and she never ceased to amaze him with her ability to read his mind, know his wants without him ever having to say a word. "Come on, princess. Let's wash your tears and off to bed with you."

Lucius waited until Narcissa's whispers disappeared down the hall before rounding on Erebus and Draco. Wearily, he rubbed his nose bridge, trying to ease up. With a sigh, he commanded, "Talk."

Draco didn't comment on it but his father must have been really exhausted to forget himself in addressing Erebus.

"It was… a nightmare that bothered us," the ebony-haired boy said quietly.

"Erebus, you don't seem affected – " It was a question.

"They have always been felt more by Melantha. They tend to trap her more than it does me."

Lucius was about to speak when the boy beat him to it.

"And I don't know why." The head of Malfoy manor frowned and ran a hand wearily down his pale face, letting out a heavy sigh.

'What happens now…?' This wasn't the first time Melantha had made both Narcissa and himself wake up in the middle of the night, but prior instances had never been so bad; the boys were never too involved and so awake. This time, though, he hardly thought they'd be able to sleep. He gazed down at the six-year-olds fidgeting, entirely too jittery with all the adrenaline, even Erebus, despite the dark circles around his eyes, seemed a little restless.

"Erebus, Draco, do you think you'd be able to return to bed?" The boys were somewhat hesitant and neither answered. They didn't quite know whether or not it was rhetoric. "Very well. Come, we will adjourn to the sitting room for a warm drink…"

It had gone on long enough Lucius decided. He had to speak to his master about this problem at once.

---

At long last, it was only an hour or so before the Dark Lord returned from his mysterious one-man mission. Ever since that night, the twins had suffered from sporadic bouts of nightmares but none as severe as that particular incident. Melantha had been moved to rooming with Narcissa and Lucius most nights just in case whilst Erebus remained with the Malfoys' son. The girl had been a little uneasy with being apart from her twin at first, but Narcissa had talked her into it well enough.

Lucius had been in the middle of several documents accounted to the Ministry when a familiar searing pain lanced through his left forearm. He pushed back his sleeve to reveal an angry tattoo 'embossed' upon his pale skin. Narcissa looked up from her painting and instantly spotted the Dark Mark.

"Our Lord calls me."

His wife rose to retrieve his cloak which was gracefully shrugged on. Then, with an appreciative nod, Lucius was gone.

---

Lord Voldemort had shut himself in his chambers the moment he had returned. Notoriously powerful and terrifying as he was, Voldemort was still human enough even if millions thought otherwise. Rumors like that worked to increasing fear by his reputation so the Dark Lord saw no point in correcting them. For that very reason, he would never let anyone - his followers included - see him in any state of weakness.

Barring a select few from the inner circle.

He had just barely dragged his aching and bleeding body through the hidden door to his rooms and dropped himself unceremoniously onto the closest surface – that being the ground-, before the world seemed to waver fiercely before him. Resignedly, the Dark Lord pushed himself across the wood tiled floor and leaned heavily against the nearest piece of furniture.

Age didn't exactly work the same way it did for others as it did to Tom; all the Dark magic had nulled the physical changes and slowed down any visible effects but much to his chagrin, he was still not entirely immune to the more aggravating aspects of aging. And it seemed that the decades were truly beginning to take its toll on him, if a little.

Exhaustion ate at him till he was on the very brink of succumbing to much needed sleep, when he was jolted out of it by the footfalls that amplified itself across the tiles.

"My Lord?" Lucius called out as he strode rather uncertainly across the front hall. He had next to never been invited into his master's personal chambers.

The Dark Lord, cursing how pathetic it was, made a deliberately louder attempt at breathing through his blood clotted air passage. The resulting was a satisfyingly wet and jerky squelching sound. Regardless, it managed to capture the platinum blonde's attention.

Lucius hurried past the hallway where it thereafter opened into a larger space, a waiting room of sorts with several couches and chairs arranged neatly in front of a fireplace. He had the impression that this would have otherwise be rather welcoming had it been in use. As it was, it felt like nobody was even around.

Treading carefully towards the source of the nauseating breathing, grey eyes widened in shock as Lucius took in the shadowed figure he'd finally discovered amidst the weakly lit room.

The slumped figure leaning against the foot of one of the long couches gave a faint mutter of acknowledgement as the platinum blonde moved closer into view; an act that in itself terrified Lucius more than anything. In the glow of the candles, Lucius stifled a gasp at the sight of the Dark Lord, he who was infallible – or was thought to be, anyway.

There was blood everywhere; a terrible gash on the head had bled profusely, covering much of the face and blinding the wizard; the heavy cloak was torn to shreds, and what was left of the vest beneath it was drenched crimson from multiple lacerations upon the torso. With every movement of the ragged breathing, the coarse material of the vest rubbed against the open cuts, and the pain was excruciating.

"L-Lu…cius," the usually silky voice now rasped, even softer than normal. A bony hand gave the barest flutter of motion, beckoning the blonde towards the injured man.

Seeing his master so weak, so... helpless, sent an uneasy feeling that sank to the bottom of his gut. It was strange to see him so, to see him thus incapacitated. But there were more important things than dwelling over appearances at the moment; He was one of the few to be bestowed the Dark Lord's trust, and he would not squander it by behaving like any other normal Death Eater to whom the infallible appearance was the only thing keeping them loyal. Kneeling, Lucius leaned close to Lord Voldemort.

"Please let me help you, my Lord." Lucius implored.

The Dark wizard rasped his assent as best he could. Immediately, Lucius set to relieving the wizard of the offending cloak and vest with the greatest care. Every wince, every groan that the Dark Lord failed to repress in his lack of control, wrenched a part of Lucius. The man was a complete mess and Lucius didn't even know where to begin.

The articles of clothing hit the floor with a thud as it was discarded quickly; the platinum blonde gingerly draped an arm over his neck and supporting the majority of the wounded man, he stood.

"S-Straight down… Right," the Dark Lord instructed in between deep breaths. Lucius could still recall from his sparing trips to the man's personal quarters but he made no comment on it. The platinum blonde brought the two of them past the waiting room, down another open hallway and eventually to a pillared wall that bore a large oak door to the right, just as the man had said.

Once inside, Lucius gently set his master on the edge of the bed. Tom hissed in relief, his body and soul wanting nothing more than to shut off and gratefully fall into Lord Morpheus' embrace. The blonde hadn't failed to notice the Dark Lord's struggle to keep crimson eyes open and while he yearned to at least make things a little easier for him, with a head wound like the one the wizard bore, Lord Voldemort had to remain awake. He couldn't risk letting the man fall into a coma.

"My Lord? My Lord, you must keep awake. Your wounds, my Lord… I must tend to them," Lucius urged, rattling on even though he didn't really trust his voice to hold. Keeping him busy, the blonde first cleared the nose of the drying blood and made damp the parched throat in hopes of easing the airway.

"Just… so… tired," Tom murmured lethargically.

Hastily, Lucius conjured a towel and a basin of water. If he didn't know any better, the blonde could've sworn that the wounds were caused by Dark magic; and that meant that countering or healing them by magical means would have been like trying to put out fire with alcohol. As torturous as it was, Lucius was going to have to cleanse the wounds by non-magical means and his master was going to have to rely solely on his body to mend them.

Tom was barely aware of what his closest 'servant' was doing. All he could feel was the incessant throbbing of the gash and the burning desire for rest. He did, however, feel more alive when a sharp pain seemed to sear right through his skull as deft fingers prodded the still bleeding laceration. The dark wizard winced and gave a hiss when once again, those blasted fingers pressed down, harder than ever, on the very same spot. His vision faltered even more and he fought gallantly against the sudden wave of nausea.

"I'm so sorry, my Lord." Tom caught snippets of apologies that came from the fuzzy edges of his consciousness.

"Get on…with it," he managed, weakly as he struggled against the stinging.

Lucius parted the short, blood-matted ebony hair and sent a silent thanks to his mother, wherever she was, for having taught him to stitch wounds - one of the very, VERY few useful muggle skills, he had to grudgingly admit. Calmly, elegant fingers moved to efficiently seal the wound in as few strokes as possible. Tom flinched every now and then but did nothing else to suggest to Lucius the actual pain he was in.

"All done," the man whispered triumphantly. He felt a wry grin on his face when his master whimpered thankfully. Tom lowered himself onto his back with quivering arms but Lucius was having none of it. Fussing over the man once more, Lucius resumed his cleaning of the wounds. Each time the blonde saw that the Dark Lord was precariously close to falling asleep, he would mouth a quick apology before applying much more force than was necessary with the damp cloth. The sharp pain would snap the wizard awake, much to his growing annoyance.

Feeling the glare of a half lidded blood-red eye, Lucius grinned though it did not quite reach his eyes. "I'm going to kill you."

"All in good time, my Lord." Lucius focused on his task, humming a mindless (and tone deaf) tune to keep the man awake. When he picked up a steady breathing, Lucius was prepared to yet again do the unforgivable - but the Dark Lord spared him from it; spared himself from the jabbing, really.

"H-how are they…?"

Lucius looked down at him, grey eyes softening.

"They're just fine, my Lord. They were absolutely well-behaved," he added just for kicks. Lucius watched the tender smile grace those pale lips, a similar smile forming on his own subconsciously.

"They-They'd better… have been."

The blonde noted that usually brilliant blood-red eyes were dulled and dilated; a truly distressing idea if he might say so himself. Quickly finishing the last of the more serious wounds, Lucius dropped his work and crawled a little closer to the wizard. He was still awake, but just barely.

"I shall change your clothes, my Lord." The man gave a mere inclination of his head, an action he deeply regretted as the throbbing returned with vengeance.

Lucius retrieved a random black shirt and slacks from the nearby closet and clinically divested Lord Voldemort of those offending, shredded excuse for pants and helped him don the fresh set.

"Finally…may I sleep, m-my liege?" Tom smirked at the blurred image of his most trusted Death Eater… the only one he dared call a friend.

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied, playing along. Whatever he had meant to tell his master could wait, for now, the man needed his sleep. As the blonde turned on his heel to leave, he was halted in mid step by the request spoken just over a whisper.

"Stay…. Could you?"

It had truly taken him by surprise. Lucius couldn't even begin to process the idea of such words coming from the Dark Lord and he sincerely wondered if he had heard wrongly.

"Stay, my Lord?"

"Yes." The hoarse reply made his heart's beating sound ridiculously loud. There were by now a million reasons that flitted through the blonde's mind, each more ludicrous than the other. Before he could get ahead of himself, however, Lucius stopped them all. It was safest to simply assume that he just needed the presence of another after being alone for … a mere month. Right, so this was equally foolish a thought, but Lucius dared not hope to consider the only other feasible possibility…which in its own right was just as inconceivable.

Or was it?

Without knowing what was happening, Lucius found himself standing by the Dark Lord's bedside. His heart screamed for him to simply acquiesce, implications be damned. Tiresome, troubling, brain-draining deliberation could shove off for now; it was the present that bloody mattered.

Lucius moved onto the other, unoccupied side of the bed, his back against the wall. Hesitating for just a moment, the blonde acted out of instinct and gently brought his master's head to rest on his lap.

He might have wondered if he'd just gone too far a little too late.

Neither man said anything. Lucius felt his fear of rejection simmer away.

"…They missed you terribly, my Lord." He said softly.

"I know," was the muffled answer.

"We all did…"

Lucius felt a weak nod. They were silent for a long time, so much so that the Malfoy was certain his master had fallen asleep. Tentatively, he looked down at the ebony haired head resting upon his leg.

Steady breathing, no jittery movements. Lord Voldemort was asleep.

It was only then that Lucius felt bold enough to voice what truthfully resided in his heart.

"I missed you."

He contemplated the notion that the Lord might (most probably, actually) go berserk if he found out how much vulnerability he'd shown Lucius (and torture him or worse still, **shun** him for having exposed so much), once more before he too succumbed to exhaustion.

It might have been wishful thinking on his part or sheer imagination, be Lucius could have sworn he'd heard a faint whisper. And it left him to fall asleep with a small smile playing upon his lips.

"_I know…"_

_

* * *

**A/N: **I guess there was another reason for the warning. Hah.. well, now that you've read it, kudos to you. Hope there are those out there who enjoyed this chapter as much as i did in writing it. Or sort of enjoyed writing it, anyway. Cheers. See ya in the next chapter!_


	7. Gift

**A/N: **I must apologise, of course, for the terrible delay in updating. It was just a pain to write this particular chapter... it felt horribly draggy and then came the 2 week holiday, the impressive WRITER'S BLOCK... goodness, but i've been trying and so, here before you is the result. I hope it'll be easier from here on... probably. It's just the explanations that kill me sometimes. But that's the challange in writing, isn't it? Anyway, I need to inform thee of several things but of which you'll see at the A/N below. For now, i'll be editing previous chapters so as to avoid confusion over this matter:

when the children interpret body language: _Italic_

when the children speak through their mind link: _'Italic'_

When the children speak parseltongue: _"Italic"_

When Nagini speaks in her native tongue: _Italic_

That said, happy reading.

* * *

The days passed in a whirl of waking up disoriented and lapses back into fitful sleep. Tom rather felt like he'd have given most anything to be in a _peacefully_ comatose state for just a day; this interrupted rest was pure torture. On the fourth day since his return, Tom found himself staring up at the ceiling, painfully awake. He felt uncomfortably stiff all over, like someone had just fancied hitting him with a full body-bind curse and had happily thought to leave him so. Cursing and showcasing the very colorful dictionary of swears he was careful that his children should not yet discover, Tom struggled to heave his embarrassingly weakened body upright.

Lots of muttered expletives, quivering limbs and some serious sweating later, the Dark Lord sat, panting heavily against the wall backing the bed.

Merlin, how he needed to get cleaned up.

Without a second thought, Tom urged his body to cooperate and he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and moved the rest of his inexplicably lagging body.

It was as he took his first step that he was suddenly, and rudely, he'd care you note, reminded of the beating he'd put his body through. Undignified as it was, he failed to hold back the startled shout as his legs abruptly caved under him.

"Bloody buggering…" Tom had had just about enough. First he'd woken up dizzy and swimming with nausea, then his body felt like a ton of lead and now fate had the ruddy audacity to see him crumple to the ground. As if things couldn't get any worse, hurried footfalls echoed louder as it approached his bedroom door.

"My lord?" Lucius called out upon entering the room, anxiety laced in his voice.

The Dark Lord whipped his head around to glare at the blonde and in his softest, deadliest tone, hissed "Not. A. Word."

Without missing a beat, Lucius covered the distance between them and dropped to a crouch beside Lord Voldemort. Gingerly, he lifted an arm over his shoulder; one hand clutching his master's wrist, the other wrapping securely around the waist. Narrowed crimson eyes followed every move, suspicion thinly veiled at the silence.

"One…two…three," Lucius murmured gently. Tom frowned at the strain of his wounds but with painfully slow progress, the two men finally managed to get back on their feet.

"I… I'd like… … a shower," The older of the two said, his sentence interrupted with panting. "Door… on the right."

Wordlessly, Lucius complied.

Tom was completely exhausted by the time he was placed on the edge of the tub, his back sagging heavily against the adjacent wall. His eyes slipped closed as he waited to catch his breath back. It startled him a little, but in no way unwelcomed was the cool touch of a soaked towel across his forehead, pushing back the matted fringe. Tom sensed, somehow as it always was, almost felt the steady heartbeat, the warmth of another body as it leaned past him to turn the taps. Soon, the only sound in the bathroom was the running water filling the tub noisily.

The Dark Lord finally broke the silence, his voice a rasp, coarse from disuse and exhaustion.

"I am not Draco, Lucius… you needn't hover."

He could just see the fractional rise of perfect eyebrows beyond the dark of his closed blood-red eyes.

"I know, My Lord. My apologies," there was a rustle of fabric, presumably from the blonde bowing. "I shall take my leave. If there is anything, just call for me, My Lord."

The man watched Lucius shut the door softly behind himself and in the secrecy bound by the four walls, Tom sighed.

---

"The Dark Lord was hunting. I'm sure of it."

"Of course he was, it's old news."

"Really. And why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"You dare doubt me?"

"Yes, actually, I do. Why would the Dark Lord entrust the purpose for his secret mission to only you and no other? Not even Malfoy knows."

"And you're sure of that? Spoke to him, did you? Maybe Lucius was just keeping it quiet. You know how ambitious that man is. Wants to think he's the only one aware of it. Likes to think he's our Lord's right hand man."

Somewhere behind the pillar past the corner where the Death Eaters were arguing, a perfect blond brow rose. Whoever just said that was going to meet torture at the end of his wand.

"He is, you fool."

Lucius felt himself nod his agreement. '_Thank you'_ he thought pointedly to himself with an indignant huff. He had been on his way to the opposite wing of the castle when this most _interesting_ topic had disrupted his thoughts. Curiosity at how anybody even knew of the nature of the mission and possibly any further details to it had halted him in his steps. He himself had only learned of it after some coaxing in the name of the children. The men had (most likely) guessed right, however. Their lord had been out hunting. But for what, exactly, Lucius was pretty certain only he was privy to.

Tiring of the insidious babbling, the blonde decided to make his presence known. Placing heavy emphasis on his first step, he continued his walk, making sure that he wore the trademark look of disdain discernibly upon his face.

Lucius barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes when the men grew quiet instantly and hunched in on themselves as he'd expected.

_Imbeciles._

---

Light steps echoed down the hallway as the ebony haired twins finally made there way to see their father. Melantha could barely suppress her eagerness, but she tried admirably anyhow; Erebus, on the other hand, was the epitome of calm and collected. It didn't matter how much he too had been pining for their father, he would not express it.

As the great oak door came into view, the girl subconsciously quickened her pace.

With a soft knock, Melantha rapped her small knuckles against the door.

"Enter," said a familiar voice.

Time seemed to stand still for the three occupants. Between the worn look on the perfect mask of indifference and the blank face of a child and his twin who blinked just a little more rapidly than her sibling, there was little else but silence that greeted them. If the children were unpleasantly shocked by the state of their revered father, they made no show of it.

From where the Dark Lord sat upright against the headboard of the bed, warm, black duvet pooling at his waist, he called out softly in his faintly sibilant voice.

"Melantha."

Immediately, the little girl darted forward, all sense of pride, dignity, and whatever else she was taught to have under control at all times were discarded. The six-year-old went for the opening the outstretched arm provided and burrowed herself snugly into the space between the man's chest and shoulder. Small arms wrapped themselves across the unknowingly bandaged torso and Voldemort had to grit his teeth to withhold the grunt of pain.

Tom's face remained impassive but there now was a well hidden glimmer to his crimson eyes and a softening of the edges around them. Tenderly, he curled the arm he'd held out upon calling his daughter and buried his fingers into soft, ebony waves. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, pressing himself against the side of his child for he longed to breathe in the light, calming scent that was Melantha.

It was subtle, it was forbidden by his standards, but every now and then, Tom couldn't help but relish the warm comfort from such simple things - she was his daughter and in so many ways, she was him, just like Erebus was; he drew power from the fact that they were unconditionally and wholeheartedly devoted to him.

Erebus knew. Despite how minute the change he was certain Father had all but managed to suppress, the boy knew. He was used to Father, and he was more or less capable of reading the man when no one else could – perhaps he was the only one. Where there had always been smooth, fluent elegance in the movements, there now was a fractional lag in every gesture, every action; where Father had always gone about doing all things with confidence, always certain about what he was doing, Erebus now noted a pause, a slight hesitance, a calculation. Was it an evaluation of the pros and cons, entirely academic as per? Or was it, Merlin forbid, a calculation of the consequence, the effect it would have on him personally… physically? The boy could not tell.

But when the child spotted the shadow of a wince on the weary face when his sister had hugged the man, Erebus understood more clearly. He was acutely aware of the changes to Father; of how something was amiss, of how Father was clearly not himself, of how Father was exhausted and merely hiding it as always. And this time, he had actually managed to figure out why and it worried him. In the past, on a scant few occasions, Erebus had been able to only sense that something was wrong but he could not quite put his finger on what it was or what had caused it. The fact that he could tell that Father was in pain meant that the extent of the damage had been so bad that even the most perfect acting that Father was capable of couldn't hide it.

No, it wasn't good. It wasn't good at all. It was in fact, very much worrying.

"Come here, Erebus," the Dark Lord whispered. The boy's attention was finally caught and blood-red eyes were yanked from where they'd been staring at the ground, unfocussed. Erebus felt his brows furrow a little as he made his way over. Even though it wasn't unlike Father to speak so quietly, Erebus had a strong feeling that in this instance, it was because a whisper was all that the man could handle.

The boy bowed as he was accustomed to and only lifted his head when cold fingers sought to tilt his chin upwards. Erebus met Father's identically crimson eyes straight on and held the gaze unwaveringly.

"Wait here for Nagini, child." Father's voice was unfittingly warm for a face so void of expression.

--- ---

Tom was sure he had never seen Erebus let slip his control so impressively. The boy took great pride in his ability to conceal, and to see it fall… well, he was amused. His beloved familiar had slithered in gracefully - as was her way, some time later and cradled with her was an egg. A sizable, black, gleaming egg which in the light, at certain angles, turned to be a deep, rich shade of purple. It was in that moment, when the egg had fallen under the gleam of the candlelight, that recognition dawned in what had been dulled crimson eyes. Erebus' mouth had dropped a little and Melantha had grown still, her attention fixated on what Nagini had brought along.

"Do you know what that is, Erebus?"

He watched the boy blink his eyes once. Twice. And then in a choked voice, replied.

"I-it's a dragon's egg, is it not, Father?"

Tom hummed his assent.

"And of what dragon exactly, do you know?"

Erebus seemed to pause in thought for a moment before shaking his head slightly. A humble gesture the proud boy would never have shown anyone else.

"Within this rare gift is the heir of a Hebridean Black, Erebus. And he or she shall be the familiar of both of you."

His son whirled on him and almost seemed to glare, and this puzzled Tom. Was it not an honor, an indescribably wonderful gift; was it not incredible? Why would it instead incite such an expression from the normally stoic boy?

But in the brief blink of an eye, the stony mask was replaced and had he not seen it for himself, Tom would have thought that it had merely been his imagination.

"Thank you, Father." Melantha said in her little voice, answering in place of her twin. "But are dragons not impossible to tame?"

"Yes, Father. Are they not? All the literature tells us so." Tom looked at the boy to his side, a little unsettled that whilst his face had displayed displeasure not five seconds ago, his voice was now entirely neutral. Tom did not like secrets being kept from him, let alone for it to be coming from his own flesh and blood. But he supposed having brought them up this way, was it not unto him that the blame should fall?

"Literature… would you trust those authors entirely? I think not." Tom sneered at the naivety but made no other comment on it. "Parselmouths, Erebus, Melantha, are able to communicate with the mythical race unlike any other. There is a commonality between the reptilians, and so, Parseltongue is the lost key to granting a link between us and the dragons." However, since dragons aren't exactly snakes so much as they are serpents, they can understand the gift of Salazar but whether or not they may return it…

Tom wasn't all that surprised that the belief that transcended generations had been that it was impossible for the dragons to listen to reason, impossible for them to understand humans. With so little known about Parselmouths, it was hardly unexpected.

"The little one will be the responsibility of the both of you. Care for it, nurture it such that it recognizes you from the very moment it emerges from its shell."

"Do you think it will be able to answer us in Parseltongue too, Father?" Melantha asked softly.

"We shall find out, won't we?"

The twins had to share a look at the unsettling glint in Father's eyes.

---

Sometime later in the evening, Lucius entered his lord's quarters as per the recent routine. Armed with a salve from a fellow death eater, the blonde was prepared to be assaulted by irate protests thrown at his person and still press on to apply it on the wounds. Granted, the multitude of lacerations coating the Dark Lord's body had healed significantly and were beginning to weave itself closed (courtesy of the magical properties of the salve), but Lucius didn't want to take any chances. His lord had been too critically wounded and despite the incessant self-proclamations that he was fine, Lucius knew he could barely stand on his own still. Even now, there were moments when the blonde would catch a wince or flinch of pain when the man thought nobody could discern it. And he was right… if the person didn't know him well enough.

Naturally, therefore, Lucius was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. By sheer dint of willpower, the Dark Lord had hauled himself off the bed and was seated by the enchanted window which was charmed into showing the mountain range surrounding the castle, all on his own. Lord Voldemort's quarters were, after all, built rather deep within the enormous structure and far from sides which were more easily susceptible to attacks and the like. It wasn't quite the fact that his lord had stubbornly persisted in moving and had possibly overexerted himself (was that blood on the floor?), but rather the image of a brooding Dark Lord that had Lucius taken aback (well, perhaps 'brooding' wasn't the most apt but … ). In all his years serving under Lord Voldemort, he had never met with an occasion in which he could describe his lord as befitting something as simple and normal as 'miserable'.

Surely it was just the fatigue that had brought on this preposterous bout of uncharacteristic display.

The blonde quietly strode to his master's side and just as silently, he reached out to touch the sleeve closest to him.

"May I, My Lord?" Lucius asked in barely over a whisper.

Wordlessly, the Dark Lord turned to allow his Death Eater better access, though his head remained drawn away, gazing absently out the window.

"Did you re-open your wounds, My Lord?"

Though Lucius would normally have allowed the derision to seep into his words in this situation, he figured it best not to agitate his master any further… Even if he did find it terribly annoying that the man was as stubborn as a mule to ignore his advice and go ahead with whatever he wished to do, consequences be damned. Sure, he planned and thought of everything and anything when it came to all else but his own physical welfare. Honestly, Lucius wished sometimes that his master would understand that while being immortal, the physical body that he now possessed was still subjected to aging and other such norms. The body itself wasn't immortal and the more he trashed it, the more work it meant for Lucius.

Yet again without even the slightest sound, the Dark Lord simply allowed the arm that had been bent and somewhat cradled in his lap to fall to his side, revealing a blood soaked portion of the man's robes. Biting back a curse and summoning the greatest self-control he had, Lucius gritted his teeth and magicked a small basin filled with water and a bit of cloth. He then placed them on the space his lord had freed up after finally turning his gaze away from (what was so interesting, Lucius did not know) the window, his head now tilted downwards just a mite and body fully facing the blonde as he sat on the edge of the window sill.

It really did trouble Lucius to see his master so silent and despondent in spite of how he was sure on most days he would have been tortured for describing his lord so. It pained him to see Tom looking so lost and perplexed for the first time in years; he NEVER allowed anybody to see him with his head down, to see him so weak. This was more than a little disconcerting.

Pulling back the right portion of the robe and slipping it down till it pooled at the Dark Lord's waist, Lucius clinically set about cleaning away the blood. It was as he gingerly applied the salve that his master finally spoke.

"I… do not understand… something, Lucius."

The Malfoy felt his eyebrows rise before he could quash the reflex. His master next to never admitted that he was uncertain of something, never admitted aloud that he did not have absolute control of everything. It was just unheard of.

"Y-yes, My Lord?"

"Why should Erebus have looked at me with anger? What wrong have I done to elicit such a reaction from the child who would sooner show such disapproval to ME than harm his twin?"

The intensity in those blood-red eyes held the blonde riveted as the Dark Lord raised his head. There was exhaustion and weariness expressed so blatantly in them that he could not help but be surprised. It rarely ever exposed itself.

"Are you, too, angry at me, Lucius? Is it so wrong to want only the best for them?" Tom looked earnestly at the blonde, the genuine puzzlement etched in those eyes made Lucius' heart clench. How could it be that someone so brilliant, so unbelievably intelligent, lacked the ability to comprehend even the simplest concepts that made humans human… like emotions.

"Worry, My Lord. It was not anger you saw. Not really. Nor am I or was I angry. We were worried," Lucius replied softly.

"Worry? What was there to be worried over?" Lucius felt a sudden, unbridled rage towards the bloody orphanage and fucking non-existent family of his master when he saw the incomprehension in the voice, the candor behind the question.

"My lord, do you recall how you felt when Erebus and Melantha were first taken away from you?"

"Of course." The Dark Lord had been beside himself, the urge to kill almost overwhelming.

"You were outraged, My Lord. But more importantly, you were afraid that you would lose them. And so you worried. That is exactly how it was with the twins."

"They thought that I would be lost?" Tom rephrased, glancing up sharply, almost sounding offended.

"In a sense, My Lord. Everybody knows how incredulous facing a wild dragon is." There was no need to elaborate. Rather, there was no chance.

Lucius almost let loose a heavy sigh when once again, he saw those crimson eyes dull and turn into its usual glacier shade. An utter and complete blank – absolutely devoid of all emotions; everything tucked and locked away far too well.

"It was unnecessary. They should have known better." Pointedly, the Dark Lord fixed his Death Eater with a cold look, "You should have known better."

Lucius felt himself loathing the curt manner in which he was being treated; the manner in which all other normal Death Eaters were treated, the only emotion besides anger that they were shown. He had thought that having been his right hand man, his most trusted Death Eater for so many years now, his lord would have grown out of treating him like he would any other. He had hoped that he was no longer seen as just 'one of them'… He had thought that he was different, special in a way unlike the rest in his master's eyes. Was he not his master's most loyal, most dependable servant…?

Was he not worthy of something other than indifference?

---

'_Erebus…' _Melantha called out in a little voice.

The children had returned to what had once been the nursery after their reunion with Father. Entrusted with the precious dragon egg, the girl had hugged it tightly to herself the whole way back. Her brother had been silent all the while and although it was not unusual of him, the tension that she felt washing over her in waves through their link was upsetting. Something was obviously troubling him and if he would not voice it to Father or anyone else for that matter, then maybe he would to her.

…

Melantha was, however, met only with silence on the other end of the line.

With a soft sigh, she pursed her lips and then, as was her habit when nobody was around, began chewing on a corner of them.

'_Won't you talk to me, Era?' _

The boy remained quiet, and he simply stood staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace.

_Little Erebus, speak… You can have no secrets from me, you know that. _

A massive, deep emerald body slithered out of the shadows and joined the child by his feet. Nagini coiled herself loosely about her charge and rested her large, hooded head on the boy's shoulder.

_Mind you, little one, I still find human sayings to make no sense… but, a penny for your thoughts, child?_ The serpent hissed lowly, soothingly.

"_I… do not understand what… this feeling is, Mater. And it frustrates me even more," _Erebus murmured, desperation edging into his words.

_What feeling?_

"_THIS feeling. I don't know what it is, I don't know what to do and I __**loathe**__ not knowing what it is! I-It consumes me from inside… as if a burning, festering beast tries to claw its way through my chest and it hurts! It hurts that I cannot control it," _The boy cried out with a helplessness neither of the two females had ever bore witness to.

"_It makes me feel so weak," _Erebus whispered.

His sudden anger had slipped into rage, so much so that his clenched fists trembled and where he stood, his vision blurred. But he would never lash out. No, definitely not in front of his sister and Mater. No matter how it drove him mad, the inexplicable want to scream, to let the weird, foreign things churning inside him escape, he couldn't. It was forbidden. You had to shove it away, somewhere far, far away from the surface so that you could forget. Emotions exposed too much, much too much; it was too easy for outsiders to presume, misunderstand, misjudge your reactions, it made it too easy for them to intrude, to manipulate. Emotions were too personal to reveal. Your emotions were not for others but for you, and you alone to bear.

And losing control? That was blasphemous.

_Erebus, _hissed Nagini. _Erebus. Listen to me, little one._

When the boy still refused to heed her request, the great serpent tightened her body about him. Firmly, she nudged his head to face hers and irately, she commanded his attention.

_Look at me, child. _

Reluctantly – Erebus' upbringing seeing him bound to observe the behavior expected of him – he regarded his mother with carefully schooled indifference.

_I want you to tell me, Erebus. Tell me why you feel this way. Show me your pain._ Nagini hissed gently but it carried a hardened edge. It was not so much a request as it was a command.

"_Brother… what is it you… think… of Father's gift?"_

Erebus accepted the nudge of encouragement from Nagini and did truly appreciate his twin's attempt at getting him started but he really did not quite know how to answer. He opened his mouth, willing his brain to think of something but it was no use. Exasperated and his patience fraying quickly, he closed his mouth and dropped his gaze. If it hadn't been so frowned upon, he would have mussed his hair in a bid to vent his irritation.

_I think it is an amazing piece to behold, no doubt. A dragon as a familiar? More a fantasy, really. _The twins could have sworn they picked up a hint of sarcasm in Mother's hiss. _But if you asked me about Tom's actions…_

The snort was unmistakable.

_I would say he was out of his mind. _

Nagini could sense her child's unease. She knew that a downside at having Tom as a father was that one would be drilled into holding respect as sacrosanct. You did not put a toe out of line, you did not disobey, you did not expose yourself – you did not fail. But, perchance if she herself loosened her tongue, then maybe he would understand that in front of her, in front of his sister, he too could follow suit. Nagini hoped little Erebus would understand that he could trust them, trust them to keep such things between themselves... She hoped her brilliant, intelligent little boy would take the hint she was trying to give.

He did.

"_Did you know that they are impossible to find?__"_

Melantha was confused by the outburst. She had indeed been hoping for her brother to talk, yes, but she hardly expected such a sentence to be the first thing to come out of his mouth.

"_Did you know that Hebridean Dragons are impossible to find without the use of insurmountable, immeasurable amounts of Dark Magic?"_

Ah. Now they were getting somewhere.

"_There's a bloody reason why these dragons are considered to be one of the rarest amongst the few species known to the world."_

Melantha knew she wasn't the only one who was a little startled from the use of such an emphasis by her normally calm, collected, prim and proper brother. She didn't quite detect any change in his voice, nothing that betrayed how increasingly heated her twin was becoming. No, he still spoke in his emotionless whisper. But it was coming off clearly through their mind link. It seemed it was impossible to hide anything from each other.

"_The MacFusty clan that cares for them enshrouds the Hebridean Blacks in ridiculously powerful magic to keep them hidden and out of danger. They cannot be traced, they cannot be observed, little further than the fact that they exist is known since the clan took up the responsibility." _

Their mother hadn't yet pieced things together but Melantha knew where her brother was going with this, knew what he was getting at, the reason for his worry and anger. After all, were they not twins? Rather unique twins, no doubt, but nonetheless, it was beginning to seem unsurprising to her that whatever she felt about most things, she could be certain that her twin felt it too, to an extent at the least. All these explanations… it confirmed that her brother shared the same views on the matter. The only difference was that she knew her emotions (often much to her family's displeasure), that and the fact that she was more concerned about her brother as this point. She hadn't had much time to dwell on the implications of Father's retrieval of a dragon's egg. Besides, the most important thing right now was that Father was alive, no?

"_Blood magic. That is what was used to bind the dragons to the clan. That is what was used to keep them secret, to keep them safe. And the only way around blood magic is by countering it with Dark Magic. And even then the chances of success are uncertain at best." _

Erebus turned on his heel to face the two others, his frustration churning like a storm in crimson eyes; like the blood red sands that stain the swirling rage of the Harmattan.

"_Do you know why?"_

It really was rhetoric but Melantha asked regardless, gently, sympathetically through their link though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

"_Because blood magic is Ancient magick. And everybody knows to respect such old magick. Nobody is foolish enough, nobody goes courting death by trying to prove that he can best magick of the Ancients."_ Erebus may not have been aware of it but his aura had flared tremendously, spiraling out of control as his emotions got the better of him. In a final burst, all the glass, all the ornaments, anything that was within his range shattered with morbid beauty. Barring his mother, but you already knew that.

Breathing heavily, Erebus averted his gaze from his sister once more, ashamed for going berserk.

The awkward silence wore on once again until Nagini could bear it no longer. Children, honestly…

_Your father, apparently does. _She remarked dryly.

Melantha raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to say. It was an awful way to break the silence.

Erebus, however crabby, resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

* * *

**A/N: **Horrible ending? I know and I'm sorry. But please don't give up on me just yet. Right, what i wanted to tell you all was that you sort of notice Erebus calling Nagini 'mother' or 'mater'... well they both pretty much mean the same thing if i'm not wrong and the purpose of this was that she really assumes the mother figure in their lives and calling her mother outright isn't quite... fitting, hm? so Mater while meaning the same thing seems a bit more of a nickname of sorts. not entirely literal. I hope you understand what i'm saying but seeing as it's midnight and my brain is fried from training, pardon my ramblings and any errors you spot in the chapter. for now. i'll edit EVERYTHING. i promise. and as a peace offering, you could check out my deviantart account for i've uploaded an image of Erebus so that you may see how he looks like in my head and allow for a better visualization when you read. the link will be on my profile page too. my user is: Crazybiscotti just in case you wanna go directly to deviantart. comments are appreciated of course!! SO ARE REVIEWS. THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO HAVE REVIEWED BUT MORE WOULD NOT BE A BAD THING EITHER! just tell me if you like this... or what you think of the characters or whatever... anything under the sun, really. well... you know what to do if you'd like to. until next time, cheers!


	8. The Raid

**A/N: **I must sincerely apologise for the insanely LONG hold up. I'd begun so long ago but I had a blasted writer's block, got distracted, lost interest and etc. Not only that, this chapter really was difficult to write. There were too many concepts to try and figure out entirely in just that old noggin' of mine. I had to keep thinking of how to make things make SENSE and not friggin' CONTRADICT each other. I had to attempt to make things believable. Anyway, i finally finished it so i HOPE you enjoy the read. I honestly liked bits of it but... i dunno. Ah well.

Happy reading!

* * *

Truthfully, Lucius had been feeling less than pleased ever since that little incident with his master. Not because he had hoped for some semblance of affection to be shown to his person, certainly not. He wasn't attracted to his lord in that way! He would always be loyal to Narcissa; he had sworn an oath for goodness sake. It was ridiculous to think that a Malfoy would fall for another and begin an affair, much less with another of the same gender. No, it was simply because as a respected member of the inner circle and confidant of the Dark Lord (of this role he was pretty certain), it would not be absurd to expect a different sort of treatment from the everyday Death Eater.

Well, that was what the blonde had tried constantly to reassure himself with for the last few days, anyway; with such thoughts that dabbled along this line. But the truth was… Lucius didn't really know what he wanted.

Wait. Even that wasn't quite right.

The blonde was more torn than anything. On the one hand he was intent on being faithful to his wife and on the other… well, it was a complete lie if he said that he didn't love his master – however it may scandalize morality – just the same if not more than he did Narcissa. And despite the teachings and family name and the knowledge of how his ancestors would be turning in their graves, the issue of homosexuality really didn't quite disgust him as it probably should. It certainly wasn't widely accepted in society but he imagined it needn't be publically flaunted. Besides, further to the point, he did have a strong feeling he didn't actually swing that way. It was more of an obsession and liking for one man in particular, and this one person only.

Lucius knew that in some way or another, master-servant relationships would inevitably tweak a feather of the ever looming entity that was Morality but it really wasn't uncommon, especially in situations that he was in. Blind devotion for a leader and fervent loyalty was commonplace and it tended to be misinterpreted, sometimes by the person himself, to be love. The fanaticism and fixation over this one thing was easily misconstrued and meshed together to form some impression of unwavering love. It was at times difficult to see the line of distinction.

But all these hardly mattered, not when there was a more fundamental concern. The crux of it all was that Lucius wasn't even sure his lord was capable of such a thing as love in the first place. It would be wishful thinking to even entertain the notion that his master might even consider him, much less share the same feelings (whatever it was) that he had and reciprocate them. To claim that his lord had a full grasp on the concept of parental love and was even aware that his actions seemed to be attempting to express it was already stretching things.

The proud platinum blonde shook his head. Now wasn't the time. He needed a clear, sharp mind for his meetings with the Dark Lord.

And just such a meeting was now.

* * *

_Sweet Merlin's beard. This is preposterous. What newfound insanity is this? No, that doesn't even begin to describe it. What in Merlin's name has Tom been taking? What utter, complete - …wha- just WHAT?_

"_Surely… Surely, you jest, My Lord?"_

_It was spoken slowly, calmly, with just the teeny, tiniest hint of disbelief tainting the cultured, aristocratic voice. _

* * *

Wilkes stood, his back pressed tightly against the bricked walls of the alley, as he shot fleeting glances past the corner at the darkened little village. In the pale glow of the silver moon, the lonely clock that stood in the centre of the village square read five minutes to three in the morning.

Five minutes till the start of the raid.

This would be the third raid he'd been assigned to participate in and the previous two hadn't been all that great an experience. He prayed to Merlin that he wasn't with Lestrange's wife or the Carrows again. In each instance, it had been particularly graphic, the manner in which they had sought to carry out the raid. There had been so much blood, so much senseless torture, so many unnecessary deaths. On both raids, he had in some way or another made his unease at the violence known and each time he'd gotten the same answer.

"…following our Lord's orders.,," and "… do you think the Dark Lord cared about what these mudbloods felt? Our Lord wouldn't question our methods as long as the job gets done."

Wilkes had then been rudely shoved aside with a disgusted glance. Perhaps he was much too wimpy. He wondered about that sometimes.

Through the adrenaline pumping in his veins, the man noticed a minute little white insect floating down towards him. He jolted. No, it was no insect. It was snow.

It was snowing. On a raid. He didn't like the disquiet that began to bubble up inside.

Taking a deep breath, Wilkes withdrew his wand from the confines of his robe and tapped it to the mark on his arm.

It was time.

* * *

"_Jest, Lucius? I do not."_

_The world seemed to narrow itself as Voldemort leaned forward, crimson eyes fixing the blonde with so intense a gaze that everything else faded to nothing._

"_I am perfectly serious."_

* * *

All the hooded figures shifted a little, a reflex to the stinging that throbbed from their shared symbol of loyalty to their master.

The time had come.

There were roughly ten of them this time and the majority from the lower ranks of the Death Eaters. It was a low-profile mission, just a simple scare. And precisely as their lord had instructed…

A Death Eater, presumably the leader, whipped around to glare at another who stood directly behind him.

It was a low and dangerous warning. "You will control yourself, I trust? The Dark Lord has already spoken to us. No killing, nothing garish and ostentatious, nothing…_distasteful._ You will try to keep a leash on all your natural tendencies, _won't you_? The Dark Lord was far from pleased with your misconduct and - what was it you told… Wilkes, was it? ... Ah yes, your own deliberate misinterpretation of his orders."

A woman's voice, high and sharp, hissed back from the shadows of the midnight black folds of robes. "They had _deserved_ it, and you know it. I can't understand why Master would want them to live."

"Because Father will not lower himself to be like those barbaric muggles."

Silence instantly fell on the group. Every masked head had turned their focus to where the soft, eerily dulcet voice had come from beside their group leader. The Death Eaters felt a shiver run down their spine as the two small hooded figures raised their heads to meet their stares. In the glow of the moonlight, their silver masks were haunting.

Dropping to one knee, the leader brought a hand to rest on the shoulders of the group's smallest members.

"Listen to me, please. Do not do anything rash, do you understand? I know you think you can handle the Aurors but - "

"You do not think that."

"…I did not say that, Melantha."

"You thought it." The other small cloaked figure continued without missing a beat. As if the two bodies were actually just one.

The leader sighed softly to himself.

"Please. You know what I wish to say but I must still voice it. If only for myself to hear," the man went on wearily. "The Dark Lord entrusted me to keep you both safe. And I shall. So whatever it is, simply, simply, be careful."

The small ones politely inclined their heads.

That would have to do for the moment. Time was running out.

* * *

Wilkes eyed the clock anxiously. Only two minutes to go and so far, there was still just him. Where were the others?

It was right then, as it fell to just a scant minute remaining, that from the edges of darkness surrounding the nearby village, soft, almost inaudible pops were heard. With an entrance as daunting as ever, black mist arose and encircled the new arrivals like a protective guard. The quiet was agonizingly tense and suspense soared with adrenaline. From the gloom of the forest, there were fleeting hints of silver that glistened in the illumination of the moon. They looked like masks, but to the unfamiliar eye, it was too sudden, too much like a play of the imagination.

One by one the cloaked figures appeared, gathering in a formation as they began to make their move.

Swiftly and silently, the pack invaded the village.

-

* * *

-

Wilkes mused briefly if it was possible for his heart to go on beating so loudly, so erratically, that it hammered its way out of his chest.

In a period of five seconds, the Death Eaters had managed to stir the whole village into a mess of blood-curling screams and wavering candlelight. Glass shattered, doors exploded, curses and hexes flew in every direction. Figures in black and masked in silver mercilessly stormed the village, dragging and shoving any who resisted – half-bloods and unsuspecting muggles who blindly supported the Ministry and the Light, whose eyes were too clouded to see that this was a war that never should have happened.

A high pitched, hair-raising cackle pierced through the noise, rising above it all. A woman, presumably, bathed in black just like the attackers, struck her wand proudly into the air and with triumph resonating in her scream:

"_Morsmordre!_"

A shining burst of white light shot from the wand tip and like a splash of paint against a canvas, the symbol the entire wizarding world had learnt to dread if not fear, adorned the dark sky. _Death be upon the murderers from the Light. _

* * *

Caradoc Dearborn cursed his terrible luck. He loved the idea that it was a fine opportunity to get one against them, but chances were that it was too dangerous to do so when outnumbered that greatly. What irked him was the misfortune he had of landing the rare raid that was entirely unprepared for by the Order. Whoever the informant was, he had either not known or Dumbledore must have had ignored him (Or her.). As it was, Dearborn sincerely wished against the latter.

However, knowing Dumbledore (though admittedly little) from past experiences, he wouldn't put it past the man to do just that. When his whole family had been obliterated, destroyed in all entirety as an act of revenge due to the accidental death splurge by the Light during one of the intercepted raids, Dumbledore hadn't covered it up but he also hadn't done anything about it. In brief, the head of the Order had merely offered the explanation that it was necessary for the Order not to be seen killing, lowering themselves by seeking revenge as the Dark does. Planned assassinations would cause a disturbance in the view with which they held Dumbledore.

It hadn't made much sense to Dearborn. During the interceptions or planned ambushes, the Light always got away with kills, whether deliberate or in self-defence. Why could he not be granted the same leniency? Why could the rules not be bent just a little? His family had had nothing to do with all the politics. They had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time!

Dearborn made his decision. He would throw himself into the fray and take down as many as he could. If Dumbledore was not going to allow the avenging of his family, then just like many before him, he would simply label it as an inevitable end brought on by self-preservation. Even if in so doing, it was a blatant excuse to counter the intentional insubordination.

This wasn't about the Light anymore. It was just about him. Just about his family.

* * *

"Auror! Auror!"

"Just one?"

"The rule still applies!" their leader snarled, wary of the elation in the woman's tone. "Where is it?"

"Last we saw was that house to the far left."

In a swirl of black, the man was gone, off in a sprint towards the direction of the lone Auror, the two smaller figures darting right behind him.

Just as he had feared, two of his less experienced men had been dispatched by the time they reached the area. The Death Eaters' bodies lay in an undignified heap across the cobbled pavement, their silver masks askew and blood pooling messily by the side against the stark white of snow. Whatever spell had been used, it had definitely not come from the Light's repertoire.

"Shall we?" the childish voice spoke.

There was a sigh and a great deal of pondering over how bad he would have it coming for him before the leader relented with a curt nod.

* * *

With screams of fear and imagined pain, the muggle woman cowering before him together with her husband shrank back more, were it even possible, into the little corner of her destroyed home. Wilkes had taken the liberty of blasting down the front door and demolishing pretty much the entire structure into pathetic rubble. It was therapeutic on some level.

He bit down the urge to roll his eyes when the screams finally progressed to pitiful, repetitive begging for mercy and the sparing of their lives. How many times did the Death Eaters have to do it before they LEARNED? Well, technically speaking he supposed he couldn't really blame them. It wasn't as if the Death Eaters were going to tear down their very important image upon which everything was built on by telling their victims outright that they had every intention of letting them go – most of the time. The Dark needed the fear that the wizarding world had for them in order to keep people in line, to spare the unnecessary loss of blood in this war.

So, no. Wilkes couldn't chew them off and tell them to just 'cease their incessant whining' because he WAS going to release them relatively unharmed; that the main purpose of all these raids was to instill fear, to keep it thriving, to give them ample warning to NOT shove their noses into this mess, to NOT make an enemy of the Dark, to just NOT take sides and get involved. He was going to have to bear with it and play along.

"This is a final chance my master is offering you. Muggles like the both of you have no business meddling with the affairs of the wizarding world." Wilkes growled, admirably stifling the amusement that threatened to creep into this voice. "Leave now before you lend even more of your blind support to the wrong side."

Sometimes Wilkes also wondered if what comes out of his mouth isn't English.

Wilkes scowled behind his mask and with an irritated flick of the wrist and a muttered curse, the wall behind the couple blasted apart dramatically.

"Go." Just to be safe, he even included overly exaggerated hand gestures.

That finally did it. The muggles scrambled to their feet and disappeared not through what remained of the front of the house but through what Wilkes imagined would be the back door. Not that it mattered to him anymore.

Stepping over the concrete slabs and shattered glass, the Death Eater stood beneath the shadow of the narrow space between the houses.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted two small figures swathed just as he was in a black cloak.

Now, he wasn't exactly that high up in the ranks of the Death Eaters and so hadn't quite known for certain whether there was any truth in the rumors being circulated; rumors that spun the belief that their master, The Dark Lord of the entire wizarding world, had already sired heirs. Nobody in the common ranks could actually claim to have seen the children, but over time, they had just come to accept it, rumor or not. It wasn't so much that it was an absolutely unmentionable secret as it was simply that none dared ask those who might have an answer.

As far as the Death Eaters were concerned, Lucius Malfoy, alongside his crazy sister-in-law had gathered the common ranks one day and had addressed the rumor. They had been given an evasive answer, neither denying nor affirming it; rather, they were simply told to keep this – if their never-ending gossipy babble could not be reigned in – to themselves and make certain (Malfoy had given them a particularly pointed look that promised pain) it never got out to the Light.

But now, as a sharp sparkle of silver flashed upon catching the light of the moon, Wilkes knew that the rumors were definitely true. With that revelation aside, he shoved his wondering over whether or not others too had seen them, and concentrated on the fact that closing in from behind the smallish figures was the auror he'd heard shouting about. The man lurked stealthily from the cover of shadows and crept up from behind the children who were idly scanning the area, amateurish to their job.

Without a second thought, he lunged forward, abandoning the comfort of his hiding place and yelled.

"Move!"

As a student and even to adulthood, some things just didn't change, no matter how he had tried to with unending practice.

With his wand raised and the Unforgivable at the tip of his tongue, he had had the advantage.

Up until his eyes came to meet that of the person he had to kill. Up until his heart clenched despite the screaming in his head to end this NOW.

Up until he hesitated taking the life of another.

* * *

Dearborn, warped by his thirst for vengeance, had much to his demented joy, successfully killed two unsuspecting Death Eaters in cold blood. With a sane mind, perhaps he would have just left the bodies as it was, trapped and captured in their last moments of life, but he _wasn't_ of a sane mind.

Not that night.

With unbridled rage, he had hexed and cursed the dead bodies, relishing the crimson stream that seeped from the fragile paradigm of humanity, getting high off it. When he had grown tired of only being verbal in his attacks, Dearborn had seized sizable pieces from the rubble and used them instead to smash his victims.

The Auror was drawn away when he heard shouts from his left just beyond a row of houses. It wasn't the usual shouts of fear and terror from those being assaulted by the Death Eaters, from those he should have been protecting. No, he had made out some words and it was enough to know that the Death Eaters spoke of him.

Hastily, he had slinked away.

Dearborn lay low for what seemed like an eternity as adrenaline unrelentingly surged through his veins. The echoes of footfalls thundered in his ears, the slightest shift of gravel sending him into a jerky rendition of a position of alert.

Finally, he spotted another pair of Death Eaters enter 'his' domain. He might have found their small size to be unusual but any questions died in a haze as the unmistakable silver masks gleamed in the moonlight.

He observed their movements, awaiting the chance to strike. The pair simply hovered about the centre between the two rows of houses, slowly taking in their surroundings. There was no grace in their movements, no ease to their carrying out the job; nothing that showed that they were seasoned.

Dearborn praised his good fortune. Such easy picking.

Once their backs were turned to him, he made his move.

Stepping quietly out into the open, he chose directly to use those same pieces of rubble instead of his wand. No point in wasting his breath when such means were so much more engaging… and gratifying.

"Move!"

Admittedly, the yell had caught him off guard and for a brief moment, his mind sobered enough to contemplate his end. But then he caught the hesitation and instinctively he knew everything was once again in the palm of his hand.

With a sickening grin, Dearborn whipped out his wand and shouted in triumph as the burst of green light flared in the dark.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

He spared but a minute to watch the other Death Eater crumble to the ground as the life in his eyes was snuffed out. In the next instant, Dearborn had redirected his attentions once again to the smallish others. There would be time later to do as he wished to the three of them at his leisure. For now, he had to complete his interrupted task.

It might have been a little strange that the pair had done nothing still; they had not moved, had not even made an attempt to arm themselves with their wands and cast their spells to defend themselves. They had just stood there, their faces focused and unmoving at the pathetic, lifeless body that had become of their comrade. The Auror, however, simply put it down to shock. And perhaps fear.

Without further pause, the man came at the Death Eaters at a mad lunge and with his pieces of rubble raised, he brusquely brought it down towards the back of their heads.

At the last second, just before the attack would have been fatal, the two of them whirled around. There was, nevertheless, a nauseating crunch as a piece still managed to catch a blow to the side of the head of one of the figures.

There was a whimper and gasp of pain in a voice that was rather unbefitting of an adult.

Subconsciously, it registered in the Auror's brain as being not unlike that of a _child's_.

But it couldn't be. Surely not. The Dark couldn't have begun recruiting children into their ranks! It was madness! Absolute madness, even more so to send them into potential battlegrounds!

Footsteps echoed in the distance, quickly approaching though it hardly seemed to matter to the man.

The Auror found himself soon surrounded by the rest of the Death Eaters, all of whom had their wands at the ready. The only reason they stayed unused had been for the fact that the pair he now stood behind were his hostages.

Even so, even with the two before him completely at his mercy, Dearborn found that he could do nothing, for under the illumination of the moon, Dearborn saw what lay beneath the hood that had been ripped by his attack. Ebony hair matted in blood from the heavily bleeding gash to the side; pale, soft looking skin and a glimpse of facial features that peeked from the upset mask… facial structures that could only belong to a child.

Lowering himself to a cold-blooded murderer, making himself no different from his enemies, sullying himself by having no respect for the dead, these were all his sins and they were bad enough, but this… he had struck a child and would have killed him or her had they not turned. He had had every intention to kill, to brutally murder two _children_. Death Eater or no, it was unthinkable.

"You killed three of us." The child's voice rang eerily, utterly surreal in the unnatural silence. Dearborn sank to his knees.

"We had not extended the same to any of your _charges_." Another child's joined in, this one a tad lower. Dearborn noticed what he was sure was the outline of linked hands in spite of the obstructing fabric.

"M-My family. You monsters killed them!" Where he found the strength to retort thus forcefully he did not know. The words tasted peculiar in his parched mouth.

"**Only because your **_**people**_** had taken ours,**" the children chorused.

"It was a trade. A repayment. Not vengeance. Not a desire for revenge like yours."

"Liar! You would trade human lives? You would objectify something as sacred as that? Barbarians!"

The child, the one with a lower voice, perhaps a boy, stared straight into the blue eyes of Dearborn with piercing crimson. "And you would lay death unto children? You are no different."

"I-I had not known." The Auror felt a growing numbness seep through his body.

"_We _do not lie. Perhaps Father had begun with it… and perhaps still does," the higher voice, this time a girl, surely, spoke faintly. "But _We_ do not. There is nothing personal, nothing born simply out of hatred; there is no resentment that we feel towards the lives that disappear, that we may take. It is just the way it is. A balance. To even things out."

"You might, perchance, think of it as an equivalent exchange."

Dearborn stared. His whole world seemed to centre about that one word the child had spoken: _Father_.

Did the Order know that the Dark Lord had heirs? He had to send word to them… but how? There was not a chance in hell that he was going to be left alive. It would take an enormous miracle to walk out of this mess in one piece.

"**But this time, we are making an exception. To give your life in exchange for the one you have taken, ****that**** comes without doubt." **

A chill ran down his spine. Dearborn hadn't thought it possible given his current lack of feeling.

"**No, this time we do feel something. We will be happy to see the death of he who murdered three of ours; he who killed the one that died protecting us."**

Despite their steeled hearts and hardened minds, the Death Eaters bearing witness felt unnerved by the harshness unsuited to the voices of those who should be so young and pure.

The children lifted their arms with grace and their wands aligned, one at the heart, one at the head.

And in a whisper carried by the coming wind of dawn, like a sigh sung to the darkness, the words danced:

_Nemo me impune lacessit_

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading and for the GREAT MANY PEOPLE WHO PUT THIS ON ALERT. THANK YOU! and to my reviewers, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I'LL GET TO THEM SOON! I'M SO SO SO SORRY! IN THE MEANTIME, you know the drill. Reviews are always appreciated.

till next time!


	9. I feel it

**A/N: **Hullo all. I'm so so sorry for the late update. I'd got stuck at some point in wrapping up this section of the story and it was just left like that in my computer. Then, school kicked in and everything's so bloody stressful and taxing (pardon my language) and I just had next to NO TIME FOR MYSELF, LET ALONE THIS STORY. but that didn't stop it from haunting me more often than not. The idea begged to be finished. Somehow, it seems that this story has become a part of me. Quite literally. Possibly, i imagine, because of certain characters that exist in my little world up in that ol' noggin of mine... I really have J.K Rowling to thank for that. Their stories HAVE to be told. There's no way around it.

As such, i promise you, dear reader, that this story will be completed. Somehow, Someday, you will see the proper conclusion to this massive baby. (it has hardly begun, trust me. -wince- )

Without further ado, happy reading!

* * *

"There is just a pink patch left, Mela." Her brother informed her as she gingerly prodded the side of her head.

"Does it still hurt?" a man whose face was hidden behind raven black hair asked. He sat opposite the child, his wand still poised to continue the healing if she but said the word.

"No, not really. Thank you, Severus."

Through the curtain of slightly mussed hair, the Death Eater's obsidian eyes softened; a rather uncharacteristic expression that Melantha thought only she was privy to. And she wouldn't be wrong.

Voldemort sat regally in his seat, stormy crimson eyes watching his daughter like a hawk. To say he had been furious upon hearing the outcome of the raid would have been a severe understatement. The room had seemed to quake and all its occupants felt suffocated, the release of the Dark Lord's magic like an immense, invisible force weighing down on their chests. There had been a raging flame blazing in the fireplace, the small, flickering light having gone from that to an inferno in the blink of an eye. By the time Erebus had somehow, _magically_, calmed his father down, Melantha looked even worse for wear than she had to begin with, and Lucius was struggling to keep his composure, looking much paler than he already was.

The Dark Lord glared across the study at the platinum blonde who stood some ways away from the twins and Severus. Hands clasped behind him, body overly stiff and head slightly bowed, Lucius resisted the urge to fidget under the evil eye his master was giving him.

"Father, the fire is picking up again."

Blood-red eyes narrowed at the young boy though nonetheless, Voldemort forced his breathing to level out and brought the anger that had flared back under his control. Erebus had had a point – the scorch marks from the first outburst still adorned the bits of wall around the fireplace; there was no need to make it any worse.

"Explain yourselves." The Dark Lord commanded of his children, his voice dangerously low.

"We knew where the Auror was, Father."

"We were waiting. We had a plan."

"**But Wilkes hadn't known. He thought to try and save us."**

Voldemort did not look entirely convinced. "Then why were you injured? You say you knew he was there. You say you had a plan."

Melantha averted her gaze to the floor. "That was… I was careless, Father," she said softly.

"You underestimated it. You were caught unaware, Melantha. You saw it, you saw what it had held the moment Wilkes intervened. How you could still not defend yourself _eludes_ me, child. What point was there in waiting even longer?"

The twins didn't bother searching for an answer, an excuse. Quiet, they lowered their heads in apology.

"_Muffliato_." The Dark Lord muttered curtly. "There is _no_ denying nor is there an excuse for your complacency."

Voldemort fixed his children with a positively glacial stare, his expression otherwise unreadable. "I thought I'd taught you both better than that."

The giant serpent which had, until then, been curled at the base of her master's chair saying not a word but merely observing, hissed soothingly. _They were… are just lacking experience, Tom._

"_Take them back to their rooms, Nagini."_ Voldemort growled, ignoring the remark.

The python reared her head, the action indignant, as she fixed her master with a pointed look of her own. She would not disrespect him in front of others, no, but she could certainly show her displeasure; that much her master owed to her.

Once the twins had padded out of the room and the door closed with a soft click behind them, the Dark Lord rounded on the two that remained.

"My Lord, I know that my actions hav-"

"Silence." Voldemort interrupted coldly. "I will deal with you_ later_, Lucius."

Fear and guilt washed over the usually collected blonde but the expression disappeared in an instant. Bowing deeply, Malfoy stepped back, as if hoping to fade into the background and become invisible.

"Severus, what of the solution?"

"My Lord, I have looked into them as you have instructed, and I could only extract one other feasible option."

"Which is?" Voldemort demanded impatiently, crimson eyes narrowing at the hesitation he sensed in his servant.

"There seems to be some talk of utilizing Legilimency to… control the dreams. Theoretically, the concept is simple, My Lord. By accessing the mind, it should be possible to delve into the deepest regions where these dreams, subconscious as their nature is, reside. The concern here is that because it is subconscious, the dreams are heavily concealed and by extension, heavily guarded. And in venturing so far into a person's mind, there could be side effects."

"Go on," Voldemort said irritably.

"My Lord, the chances are that the Legilimens could be lost, trapped in the mind of the other. The dreams could be overwhelming, affecting the Legilimens' emotions; one would be subjected to the feelings the person has towards the dreams or of the dream itself.

"Furthermore, the person under Legilimency might possibly be affected too. The mind could be damaged too severely if the process is not done with extreme caution. Damages afflicted in areas so deep within the mind could be permanent and incurable," Severus concluded softly. A part of the man was definitely worried about his master's reaction to such undesirable results; option had become a moot point. Either way, it now seemed for sure that the Dark Lord would have to resort to the use of Dreamless Sleep potions.

Severus feared for his wellbeing.

"Which would you suggest I choose, Severus?" Voldemort tented his fingers, surprisingly pensive, as he rested his chin on his thumbs.

"The odds are very much against the use of Legilimency, My Lord. There is just too small a margin for error." Severus replied, a little unsteadily, fervently wishing it didn't show on his face. "I would work with the potion first – "

"And handle the addiction later?"

"My Lord, it is not an absolute." The Death Eater hastily said.

"It may as well be." Voldemort frowned. Tom was very much aware of the dilemma forced into his hand; he knew the instability of Legilimency when it was applied to certain aspects of the mind, and of its immense potential to be the answer to a great many things. It was immeasurably useful and at first glance, it seemed a miracle worker, but he also knew that it was wishful, idealistic thinking if one believed it to be flawless. Little Melantha needed a cure for the nightmares or it was sure to mess with her mind, but at running the risk of instead igniting a catalyst to speed it up?

Tom wanted desperately to relieve his daughter of this unnecessary burden but he was not going to take the chance.

The Dark Lord lifted his gaze from where it had been fixed unknowingly at his servant's throat whilst he had been lost in thought and brought his crimson eyes to meet carefully steeled onyx. Voldemort was certain he saw the man swallow anxiously under his stare.

"So be it." Severus stared at his master, jolted out of his reverie by the ironically unexpected words. He had been preparing himself for the venting.

Severus blinked.

"I want a fresh supply as soon as possible. After which, you may be unhurried." Voldemort continued, merely arching an eyebrow at the undignified gaping. "Though I _imagine_ you will undoubtedly still be well stocked should the need for it arise thereafter."

The unnatural calm of his master's voice was too clear a warning for the Death Eater to miss.

"Leave us, Severus." Voldemort then ordered with a lazy flick of a wrist. Immediately, the man bowed low and made himself scarce.

Silence fell once again as blood-red eyes merely regarded the figure partially concealed in the shadows. Lithe fingers subconsciously ran along the familiar length of yew strapped to his left forearm beneath a midnight sleeve.

Lucius watched, admittedly fearful, as his master toyed with the wand all Death Eaters had come to dread. He watched as it was twirled amongst deft fingers, the prolonged agony of morbid speculations all the more maddening.

Soft.

The command escaped like a haunting echo.

"Come closer."

* * *

Severus was always relieved to be out of his master's presence; especially when he found himself unintentionally stuck in those sticky situations. He took a deep breath and righted himself, turning on his heel to head towards the potions laboratory.

He tried to forget the glimpses of panic he had caught in grey eyes as he had left the chamber. Judging by how possessive the Dark Lord was, Malfoy was not going to get off easily, not when he had failed to prevent the little one from getting hurt. Simply thinking of the punishment the blonde was in the least going to suffer made Severus flinch.

As he strode away, down the long corridor and towards the spiral steps, Severus jerked violently at the sudden scream. He felt his nerves frazzle and his breathing quicken.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Severus walked with even greater haste, seeking to escape the horrible cacophony of tormented cries and blood-curling screams.

* * *

"Have you finally decided on a name?"

"Aquilon."

Erebus raised his eyebrows, he had not been expecting that… Or perhaps he should have.

"After Greek mythology, Mela, really?"

"It would be befitting, I should think. He will be strong, he will be great, Erebus." The boy watched as his sister cooed over their familiar, as she tickled the soft underside of the belly. _"I can see it in his eyes."_

The small hand lovingly caressed the glistening scales, much to the pleasure of the Hebridean whose wings unfurled in reflex. _"I can sense his power."_

If rolling his eyes hadn't been beneath him, Erebus would have gladly done so. Melantha had that amusing penchant for believing that she could derive such claims about things by the simplest touch or… innate instinct. It wouldn't have been so amusing if she wasn't usually right.

"Ask him then. If he minds being named Aquilon," Erebus said from his perch atop the back of a couch.

"I shall." Melantha said flatly. Turning her back to her brother, she stroked their familiar's neck and bent close to conspiratorially hiss the question into his ear.

"_M-mama…Aqui-Aquilon?" _The hatchling had taken to assuming Melantha was his mother from day one and though she had tried to correct him, she had had to give up. He was still too young to utilize Parseltongue, much less comprehend her explanations.

"_Yes. May we call you that?"_

The little dragon had been on his way to answer yes, only it ended up fused with a choked snort and puff of smoke. The intention, however, wasn't lost on Melantha.

Erebus decided then, _vehemently,_ that smugness was unsuited to his twin's face.

With a sneer to match, the boy gave a half hearted shrug and took sudden interest in the corner of their nursery.

"You have spent too much time with Draco, brother."

Pointedly disregarding that remark, Erebus hopped off his seat and landed on the ground with grace. Striding right past his sister, he ladled a small bowl of liquid from a mini cauldron that was left heated by the fireplace. Carefully, he set the mix of brandy and chicken blood on the table before the dragon.

"_Come, it is time for your feed again,"_ albeit grudgingly at the glower he felt being sent his way, Erebus ground out the name, _"Aquilon."_

Melantha smiled prettily.

* * *

Decades ago, a man once stood exposed to the elements, the unbridled surge of winter gale stinging his cheeks, the cold seeping past what fabric could not stop. But he had not turned his back to it, no, he had stood straight and proud as he gazed into the fierce clashing of dulled grey and amber that dominated the heavens. Such adorned colors had been surreal, ethereal to the time of the day – he had assumed it supernatural. A sign, an answer, a warning to his questions to the undying lands.

That had been how it started all those years ago.

The encounter soon saw a blazing trail of blood, death and destruction. It saw the beginning and the monumental ending of a devastating war that was forever carved into the minds of men.

And just as it had been then, another, swathed in a billowing black robe that whipped in the brutal gusts of the mountain range now stood as that man once had. Pale hands gripped the rail of the balcony as he gazed out into the distance, out at the unnatural splash of painted lilac and crimson mingling in the faint grey horizon.

Blood red eyes closed as the head of tousled ebony hair bowed. The man drank in the crisp air, the power charged in the atmosphere. He listened hard for the words carried to him by the wind, brief whispers melting into his senses clandestinely.

_It felt like the dawn was approaching._

_It felt like the beginning was near. _

_It was time._

_

* * *

_

_**A/N: **It was a short one this time, i know. And i'm sorry if you wanted something longer. I needed to finish this arc. It'd been dragging on for too long by my standards and I was struggling to give it an acceptable end. Longer ones will follow as per subsequently. AAAAAAAnnnd... You know the drill. If you'd like to review, then by all means, please do. It's always inspiring and encouraging. Excuse any mistakes thus far. i really just want to get on with it before doing a clean up of everything. A thorough one. I hope there weren't any glaring ones that destroyed the flow. _

_Till next time, then!_


	10. Talk

**A/N:** Hullo dear readers. I apologise for the long wait. I love this story but there just isn't time and inspiration strikes at the most inopportune moments. I'd intended for a longer chapter but I figured what i'd wished to write could be pushed to the next one. So for now, i present you with chapter 10.

happy reading!

* * *

1989

_**DEATH TOLL SPIKES. RUMOURS OF A NEW WEAPON.**_

_The reign of terror carries on as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named continues to wage war alongside fanatic blood purists. With increasing reports of raids now targeting specific groups with a vengeance, it is no longer a question of who would be next; merely a question of __**when**__. _

_Over the past three months, there has been a noticeable surge in victims for which several fortunate witnesses who survived the massacring claim to be the work of a mysterious duo. Speculations over the nature of this pair cloaked in the characteristic robes and masks of the Death Eaters have seen the possibilities of You-Know-Who having recruited dark creatures. _

_Just what is the Ministry of Magic doing?_

_Full article continued on page 3_

Albus Dumbledore set the Daily Prophet down on his desk with a heavy sigh.

Nine years.

For all of nine years, the wizarding world had seen the war trudge on, with neither a heading nor a side that looked to be winning. For nine years, the people – wizards and muggles alike had been suffering the constant terror, the ever present danger that lurked with every fading of daylight. Keeping indoors upon nightfall had become an unspoken rule; absolute silence, an unnatural stillness to the air would follow through till daybreak.

But Dumbledore knew in his heart that there was an imbalance in the scale of the war. Regardless of what the tabloids were saying, what the Ministry was restricting the media from declaring, with every day that passed, the light flickered dimmer. With every failed attempt by the Order to stop this madness, fear thrived and the air thickened with it.

And as darkness crept into the hearts of men…

The shadows grew stronger.

If the Order was unable to hit a breakthrough soon, nobody would be able to hide to which side this war was leaning towards. Nothing anybody did, no amount of denying was going to prevent the public from finding out and when that happened, chaos would be unleashed. The very definition of _anarchy_ as Albus was rather certain Tom had in mind.

Dumbledore took a deep breath as he gazed, unfocussed, at the sparks of ember burning in the fireplace.

Yes, he would speak to the marauders.

* * *

"Would you look at that," Erebus sneered. "We made it onto the front page, Mela."

The girl lifted her head from where it had been behind a book she'd been perusing and tilted it to one side. A little grin painted her face as she took in the headlines of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Has Father seen it?"

"I would assume so. It was only at our desk after we'd awoken."

"After _you'd_ awoken," Melantha quipped. "Which was at _noon_…"

Erebus replied evenly. "I was exhausted."

His sister had known, of course. It had been evident in how sluggish the connection of their mind link had been the previous night.

"Besides, why didn't you read it first, then," Erebus pointed out. A rare moment of petulance.

"Because you know how I'd never touch that sad excuse for a paper. It's a load of nonsense, especially with Father going on as he is." Melantha retorted. "And I don't like those comments at the end."

"We've all told you to brush it off, Mela. They mean nothing; they're just a handful of cowards courting death behind a pseudonym who are scared and see things the way they want to see it."

The girl frowned. "I know that."

Erebus still couldn't understand his sister, no matter how close they were; he couldn't understand what made it so difficult for her to behave and feel as he did. They were identical in so many ways and yet differed so starkly in the most fundamental aspect. Melantha felt too much, her gift of sensitivity beginning to edge towards a bane. It was no secret to Erebus that it was a concern of both Father and himself that it would harm her in the future. They could only hope to have raised the strength of her mind enough should a time come when their protection alone might not be sufficient.

With a quiet sigh, Erebus folded away the newspaper, crinkling as it went and left it on the little table beside his armchair.

"Come on. We're expected soon."

"Another raid." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement.

Erebus knew what she was thinking and it wasn't unlike what his reaction had been too. Father was really stepping up on the frequency. They were both still exhausted from the last successive three, but there was hardly room for argument.

"Yes. Another raid."

* * *

The study, located in the right wing of the castle, was tucked away in a nest of imposing rooms structured with gigantic dark granite pillars and painted ceilings. Gold rimmed mirrors adorned there walls, accentuating the extent of the room; decadent silk wove itself into chambers as elegantly as the masterfully crafted sculptures of angels and Greek myth rested themselves at corners. It lay beyond the great mahogany doors encircled by intricate carvings of laurel leaves and guarded by the portrait of the goddess Menrva.

Shrewd eyes noted the arrival of the two smallish figures whose identical crimson gaze locked onto hers. Wordlessly, she glided past her silver frame, only to return a moment after with nothing but a little nod of her proud head. The twins waited as the doors unlocked themselves and creaked open.

"**Father.**"

Voldemort looked up at them for a moment as they entered, but turned back to poring over several old, thick tomes and sheaves of parchment laid out on the large central desk.

"Come closer."

The siblings complied and strode forward a few paces until there was but a foot between them and the table. Toeing the margin between respect and intrusion into what their Father deemed his personal space.

"I presume you have read the article?"

There was a little quirk to the boy's pale lips.

"Yes, Father. It was most… amusing." His blood-red eyes glimmered with mirth.

"My little celebrities," the quiet voice sardonic, his focus still on the texts and complex diagrams.

When time crawled by and silence stretched thin as the Dark Lord seemed to pay them no heed, there was a minute jerk of a hand, a shift in the stance of another twin before Erebus obliged and gave a polite little cough.

Again, Voldemort raised his head briefly, a flicker of irritation in blood-red eyes. He glanced at his children, then finally straightened himself.

"Five days from now, the both of you shall _perform_ once again. From what Severus has told me, Dumbledore has something planned as well."

Voldemort watched his little girl's attention dart sharply up to meet him.

"Regrettably, he does not know for certain who shall be there but one of the Order did accidentally let slip two names."

Erebus narrowed his eyes.

"Potter and Black."

"More of a challenge, Father?"

"Perhaps. Though nothing the two of you can't handle." The Dark Lord's features were marred by a small frown. "Nevertheless, both of you will merely be there to give them a show. I expect your return within the hour."

Erebus picked up an abrupt waver in the mind link. Melantha was confused and not entirely in approval of the order.

"A show, Father?" the boy asked carefully. "Would you not like us to… remove them?"

"There will be a time for that later, Erebus. We are at an even now. There is hardly a need for bloodshed again so soon."

If he hadn't been sure that Father wouldn't take kindly to his raising an eyebrow, Erebus would have done just that and more. As it were, he had to stifle the instinctive snort at the strange contradiction.

"I understand, Father." Erebus answered stiffly, with easy formality.

"Will that be all, Father?" Melantha's quiet voice rang stark as the girl finally spoke. Beside her, Erebus stiffened, eyes widening fractionally.

Much to their joint surprise, however, the Dark Lord merely eyed his daughter critically for a minute before muttering a 'yes', rather than punish Melantha for what he was wont to see as an impertinence. Voldemort resumed his perusal of the documents with languid ease, his children, as if to all the world, quite invisible.

* * *

Erebus sank tiredly into a chair, closing his eyes for a brief moment before the inevitable conversation with his sister. He had felt her anxiousness nagging incessantly on their link all the way from the study back to their rooms.

"Father confuses me," Melantha began, without any reservation.

"Mela…"

"I don't understand what he desires anymore."

With great effort, Erebus cracked open one eye to look at his sister. The little frown and hard stare he was being fixed with left him to sigh resignedly.

Melantha took it as her cue to continue. Seating herself on the arm rest of the couch her brother had occupied, the girl focused her gaze on the hem of her dress.

"It used to be simple, Era. Fear raids, and that was all. Father always told us that fear was the food of power. Nobody died, and we didn't take people away unless they had done so to our side first."

Erebus noted how she had strangely refrained from saying 'kill'.

"It was all about balance and Father never strayed from it. Violence was within reason and we only worked to incite fear." Melantha continued quietly.

"But now – "

"Now, things have changed," Erebus said, keeping his expression as blank as possible. "I'm aware of that, Mela."

"It doesn't _feel_ right." Melantha murmured.

" 'It doesn't _feel_ right'?" Erebus repeated, not quite believing his ears. "Is this for real?"

"But it doesn't! Father has changed and I don't like it!"

"And how do you know that? How do you know it wasn't Father's intention all along?" Erebus countered, exasperated. "How do you know it isn't part of Father's plan?"

"Because I am his daughter and I trust Father to tell us these things!"

"Then _precisely _by your trust in Father, trust that he knows what he is doing," Erebus nearly shouted, his control frayed. "That he does not explain fully himself because we are too young yet."

"Era…" Melantha watched her brother slump back on the couch, not a little shocked by the vehement outburst.

Erebus ran a hand through his hair, finding himself abruptly drained.

"Do you really believe that?" The question was softly spoken, but he caught it all the same. Trust his sister to wrench out the doubt he had hoped to ignore.

Erebus eyed her wearily then huffed and glared at the wall. "No."

Melantha sat beside her brother, her little form sinking into the soft cushion.

"I don't think Father's even waiting for provocation anymore. He keeps pushing the Light to their limit and it's almost as if he's waiting for the weaker, less confident ones to act on impulse and kill one of our own just to be on the safe side."

"That _is_ what he is doing, Mela. It isn't just a guess. Father meant for that to therein be a justifiable reason for us to _kill_." Erebus said flatly.

He quirked an eyebrow when she thinned her lips.

"So you _do _see my point, then," Melantha barreled on, leaving the boy no chance to voice the question at the tip of his tongue.

Ruffled at being intercepted, Erebus scowled.

"Yes, of course I do," he growled.

"But the fact of the matter is this – however Father may have changed, his actions erratic and seemingly illogical, I will still follow him," Erebus turned to regard her, expressionless. "He is our father, and I owe everything that I am to him."

"I still believe, Melantha."

Crimson eyes never left her as she strode towards him and gently touched their foreheads together. Slowly, she lifted her fisted palm and rested it against Erebus' heart.

"You know that I would do anything for him," Melantha said softly. "And it will not change."

Erebus covered her hand in his slightly larger one and squeezed.

"Forgive me, Erebus. It was an unnecessary discussion." She murmured into his neck. "We are merely too young to understand."

Erebus frowned, his face perhaps thankfully hidden in the soft waves of his twin's ebony hair.

Neither quite believed the words.

* * *

**A/N: **And there you have it. I'd love to hear from you guys if you feel like popping by with a review. But as always, only do so if you it suits your fancy, no obligations. Well, ciao for now!


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